


Quicksand

by ariessential



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariessential/pseuds/ariessential
Summary: Elaine has grown up with the Shelbys and the lifestyle that entails.  So when Michael joins the family, she doesn't really see the harm in opening the door Aunt Polly is so desperate to keep closed in front of him.Suddenly in the middle of a gang war, featuring the ever-so-trustful leader of the Peaky Blinders and the foul-mouthed jewish Baker of Camden Town, Elaine and Michael both notice too late that maybe this time they bid off too much to chew.OC x Michael Gray, eventually.





	1. Prologue

Elaine pushed the door to the Shelby household open, not bothering to knock. They knew she was coming; they were the ones calling her over after all. In the kitchen, she was met with familiar faces and an uncomfortable atmosphere.

"So, what's going on?" she asked instead of a greeting and was surprised when no one reprimanded her for it. She shot John –the one most likely to quip a comment her way - a questioning glance. His unsure smile directed her forth to Polly. And when Elaine glanced over, she also met the eyes of a young man she hadn't noticed before. He was the only one sitting on one of the chairs; John, Arthur and Finn had decided to stand around, leaning against the walls or nearby furniture, Polly was standing behind the boy, a hand on her hip.

"I called you over, dear, because I wanted you to meet someone," the older woman said merrily and stepped closer behind the chair, resting her hands on the boys' broad shoulders. "This is Michael... my son." Her broad smile clearly indicated that she was hoping for a specific reaction, but Elaine had no idea what to do. Silence.

"Well, this is awkward," she finally said, causing Polly's smile to falter.

"Why?"

"Because," Elaine began slowly, rummaging through the coat she was still wearing until she pulled out what she was looking for, "I may have nicked his wallet earlier."

The silence continued.

Unsure of what to do, Elaine stepped forward and slid the object in question over the table and towards its original owner. Then she stepped back. Polly closed her eyes for a moment, maybe to pray, maybe to keep herself from murdering a girl in front of her newfound son. "You did what," she said, dragging out every single word.

"I didn't know he was your son!" Elaine defended herself, "To me he just was some new kid in town." This caused a reaction from Michael, who, until now, had just sat there with shifty eyes, not sure what to do with himself. Now his eyes shot up to her and she could see the anger behind them. Was it because of the theft? No, he had only glanced up at her when she called him a new kid. Interesting.

"He is about your age," Polly stated dryly. She had clearly imagined the family reunion a little differently. She sighed. "Michael, I'm sorry. This is Elaine. A... friend of the family."

"She's not related?" he asked surprised.

Arthur chuckled, walking over to the young girl and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Might as well be," he laughed, "Always around anyway and we've known her since she was a baby." Elaine rolled her eyes at that and swatted at his arm. He didn't care.

"That's why I wanted you to meet her, Michael," Polly explained, still a bit annoyed, "You will see her around anyways and she's one of us ... despite her ... antics." Her warning glance shot like daggers through the air, but Elaine evaded them easily.

"Eh, those antics saved your asses more than a couple times," she waved off, grinning. You could practically see Michael's ears perk up. "What do you mean?" he asked. Polly's glance intensified, if that was even possible. It looked like she had left out anything regarding the family business entirely until now and Elaine couldn't really blame her. Michael didn't seem like he knew that kind of life. Throwing the fact that his actual family consisted of gangsters and criminals in his face wouldn't have been her number one priority either. She shrugged in an attempt to wave the topic off and no one made the effort to answer the question properly.

"Anyway," Elaine began, "I think I better be off now. Things to do, y'know."

"Tommy wants to see you," Polly told her on her way out. The older women knew Elaine was fleeing from the situation but couldn't help but agree that it was for the best. Elaine left with an acknowledging grunt.


	2. Chapter 2

Elaine

It had been a couple days since the unfortunate introduction at Polly's house. As much as Elaine tried to feel guilty about the whole thing – mainly because she knew it would be morally appropriate to be – she actually found it funnier every time she thought about it. Polly's face had been priceless and after all, Michael had gotten his wallet back. And he surely didn't mind the few pounds missing from it still. Probably didn't even notice it.

At the moment, she had more important matters to focus on as she went into the betting shop with a determined expression. She preferred visiting early in the morning or the late evening and having to push past the grubby men filling the rooms she remembered why. Born and raised in the questionable parts of Birmingham, she was used to crowded spaces and noise. If anything, she valued these conditions as a perfect work environment. But now it just slowed her down on her way to Tommy's office – a common occurrence over the last couple days.

"Morning, John!" she shouted over the shoulder of a couple men surrounding the Shelby brother's desk. He just waved back absentmindedly, while trying to make as much money in as little time as possible. Elaine didn't even see the other siblings through the crowd. Trying to squeeze in between two bears of men, she stumbled and fell right into a familiar figure. It seemed as if Michael had wanted to take the opposite way, out of the betting shop.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Elaine shouted over the noise, more in a surprised than an angry way. He was thrown off by her language for a moment, but quickly regained himself.

"I – uh... wanted to talk to Tommy about something," he answered in equal volume. She nodded knowingly. The other day, Finn had told her about Michael being eager to make himself useful in the family. The fact that she found him here meant he had quickly caught on what that meant and what the family actually did. Only that there was no way Tommy would allow him near business after so little time around. The look on Michaels face confirmed her guess.

"He won't let you in just like that," she shared her thoughts, "it's gonna take a while. He needs to trust you." His eyebrows furrowed either in confusion or anger – probably a bit of both - at that comment. "He can trust me," Michael declared and Elaine grinned at that.

"We'll see about that," she said, patting him on the shoulder playfully. Only he didn't find it funny at all and shrugged her hand off immediately. Having fun didn't seem like one of his favorite past time activities, it seemed. Feeling like continuing the conversation would be a waste of time, Elaine pushed passed him and towards the office. She could tell Michael was following her.

"Wait," he shouted. Wasn't he done with the talking as well? "What do you want here?" He emphasized the 'you', shooting her own question from earlier back at her.

"I thought Polly told you I would be around," Elaine stated without looking back, "You shouldn't be surprised to see me."

"You're part of the business?" With that Elaine stopped dead in her tracks slowly turning around. He looked genuinely curious, as if he couldn't believe she had what he wanted.

"Maybe..." she replied slowly, caution laced in her voice. When she didn't elaborate, Michael inquired: "What do you do?"

"I can tell you what I don't do: going against Tommy's decisions." She took a few steps and then turned her head back to him after a second, still walking. "Also, your mother would have my head if I told you," she added with a grin. To her surprise, he didn't follow her but just raised his voice so she could still hear him.

"I don't care what my mother thinks." Elaine stopped yet again to look at his face. Guilt lay behind his eyes, almost drowned by a grim determination. The words must have been in his head for quite some time now, but he had never dared to say them out loud. Elaine realized that they weren't entirely true. She had seen the two of them interact. Michael cared for Polly and didn't want to disappoint her – that's where the guilt came from. But the determination impressed Elaine; it was honest. He was honest. Knowing Polly, she probably wanted to wrap him in blankets and never let him out of the house, afraid he might get hurt so soon after meeting her. A part of her sympathized with Michael and his desire to be treated on eye-level. But was it worth the risk of facing both Tommy's and Pol's wrath? Elaine sighed.

"Come on."

"What?"

"I said come on! Don't make me question my decision so soon."

She changed directions, weaving through the people and through the hidden pathway into the abandoned part of the house they used for hiding their activities. Quickly walking down the narrow hallway and glancing in every room on the way, she randomly chose one and went in. The walls were painted in a dark grey, white shining through some worn down patches. It looked as if there was a fire in this place at some point and no one bothered painting over the walls after that. An old wardrobe, a dresser and an extremely hideous painting of a rich woman holding a rat of a dog decorated the room. In the middle stood a table and chairs, completed with something that probably used to be a small flower bouquet in some ancient time period. Elaine sank down on one of the chairs, the wood creaking dangerously in the process. Michael closed the door carefully but stood where he was.

"Well, have a seat," Elaine commanded with a flick of her wrist to the chair opposite from her. Why did he seem so unsure all of a sudden? "I'm not gonna kill you or anything."

"Is that what you do?"

"Huh?"

"Killing people. Is that what you do in the business?" Elaine burst out laughing at that, earning a glare and knitted eyebrows from Michael.

"Straight to the point, huh? Well, I appreciate that. I hate small talk, y'know?" She rested her elbows on the table and looked expectantly at him. Michael was still standing around in the room. He seemed to get the hint and finally sat down across from her.

"Well, then just answer my question," he deadpanned, a sly smile forming on his lips. That was new. A smile like that could bring him far in this business - if his family let him, that was.

"Well, alright," Elaine leant back in the chair, seizing him up, "First of all, no, I don't kill people." She smiled slightly, waiting for a reaction, "Disappointed?" Michael shook his hand in one brief motion. This was probably her last chance to retreat. Did she really want to tell him? She honestly didn't see why not. Tommy's decision to not let him participate was understandable, Polly's apparent choice to keep everything from her own son, however, was not. She pulled a metal case from her pocket, taking a cigarette out and lightening it with a match she also extracted. "The part I'm playing," she began slowly, taking a drag, "is the collector. I gain information, get a hold of certain people or objects, keep an eye on things. That kinda thing. Tommy tells me what he wants and I get it." The smoke danced through the air between them. She held the box in his direction and he shook his head. Elaine smiled at that. Innocent, how cute.

"So you wanted to report back to him, that's why you're here?"

She nodded. "Yeah, wanted to tell him he can shove that job up his arse. No way I'm getting it done."

Michael, who had kept himself busy by fumbling about the sleeves of his suit, leaned a bit over the table now, as if they were sharing a secret. Considering this was still Shelby business and he wasn't part of it, maybe they were. "You're not?" His voice sounded surprised. Maybe he didn't think she would act against Tommy's wishes: who would dare to contradict Thomas fucking Shelby? Well, maybe he didn't swear in his head, Elaine thought.

His unbelieving glare made her defensive. "It's impossible. Well, getting my hands on ... the item in question," he didn't have to know every single detail, "isn't the problem. More the 'get out with my head still attached' part. That one worries me a bit."

"What's the problem?" he asked immediately. He desperately craved some insights in the business and it was clear that he wouldn't give up easily, now that he had the chance to get some. Elaine exhaled some smoke, contemplating the situation.

"I think that's enough," she decided and was met with exasperation.

"You barely told me anything," he complained, "you dragged me in here for that?"

"Hey, it's enough for them" she interrupted, pointing in the direction of the betting shop with her cigarette, "to kill me already, alright? You weren't supposed to know anything."

There was a moment of silence while the two of them stared at each other over the hideous flowers. None of them was comfortable with the situation, one because there wasn't enough information on the table, the other because there was too much already. The dark walls were swallowing most of the light seeping in through the windows, or maybe it was just the hostile atmosphere between them that gave Elaine that impression. She took another drag, waiting for something to happen.

"Well, if they'd already kill you, you've got nothing to lose, right?"

She scoffed but couldn't hide the grin creeping on her face. Looking to the floor she swung one leg over the other. Elain had already made a decision; she just had to admit it to herself.

"You're really something, Gray, I'll give you that." His smile was confident and smug, the complete opposite of the shy boy at Polly's table. "Long story short, it's a simple break in, no biggie, only that the item doesn't need to be stolen, it needs to vanish into thin air until it's needed somewhere else. Seems to be quite important, so they have an eye on it at all times. And even if I get the thing, what then? They will come for me. I'm not sure what Tommy thinks he's doing but I don't want to get my ass handed to me any time soon."

"So, you need a distraction." Michael was determined to prove himself. At least he caught on quickly.

"Maybe, but they can't suspect a thing. Can't just light some fucking fireworks or something – they'll know something's fishy."

"I could help you."

"What." Elaine thought he was joking for a minute, although the guy didn't seem to be the funny type so far. "No."

He moved closer to the table, leaning over as far as he could again, his eyes glinting. "No, listen. They don't know my face, I can get them away so you have time to-"

"Woah," she interrupted, holding up her hands to stop him, "You don't know what you're talking about. They don't know your face and I won't be the one to change that. End of story." He lingered a moment before leaning back in an attempt to stare her down.

"You owe me," he stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fucking what."

"You took my money. To settle the debt, I ask you to take me with you."

"To settle the- are you kidding? No!"

"Then give me the money back."

"Or what?"

He didn't answer, just smiled smugly, once again. Then it dawned on her. "You'd rat me out? Really? You're blackmailing me with your mommy?" His expression didn't falter.

"Well, Tommy won't be happy about you sharing your little mission with me either. Or the rest of the family, for that matter." The staring contest continued for far longer this time. Then, Elaine's lips broke into an unbelieving smile. "You little fucker," she mumbled and stood, stubbing her cigarette out on the table top. On her way out she briefly turned back to him.

"If you get us caught, I'll kill you."

"If we get caught, you'll have to get in line for that."


	3. Chapter 3

Michael

Despite their little talk, Michael hadn't seen Elaine for quite some time. He understood that she must be planning and from what she told him back in the empty room, it was complicated. However, he had thought she would keep him updated. Instead, Elaine was avoiding him like the plague. Obviously, she couldn't keep away completely but it seemed as if she always found a way to seem occupied. In the betting shop, she vanished into Tommy's office before Michael could even blink and was gone again before he knew it. What frustrated him most was the fact that she even came over for dinner – Polly seemed like a mother to her and it looked like this arrangement already existed before he joined the family. Sometimes, one of his cousins came over as well. Elaine would sit on the chair opposite to him, smiling at Polly, making casual conversation, knowing that Michael couldn't speak about their deal in front of his mother.

"How are the headaches, Arthur?" Elaine asked and impaled a potato with her fork. The Shelby brother winced and shook his head.

"They're bloody awful, is what they are. Like someone smashed my head against a fucking wall."

"Arthur! Language!" reprimanded Polly, but no one was listening to her.

"Yeah, Finny said you were in a shitty mood all week – which reminds me, where is he anyways?"

"I think he's with Esme today – she said something about having to cook more than usual. Told him he should tell me if he went somewhere, " Polly sighed with the voice of someone who had already given up their hopes on that. Vegetables were passed over the table and everyone chatted away in such a domestic matter, that Michael tried not to strangle himself with the white tablecloth his mother had arranged today. By the look of Arthur the first time he came over, it was clear that fancy dinner decorations were nothing common in this household. Michael appreciated Polly's efforts to be a good and reliable parent, but at the same time loathed how similar this was to his life back in the village. The only thing missing was for him to be asked to get some herbs from the garden. Luckily, Polly didn't seem to have big talents in the gardening department.

"Maybe your head would be better if you didn't go get a beating all day, down at the docks," joked Elaine, turning Michael's attention back to the conversation at hand. From what he understood, Arthur was completely obsessed with boxing, which explained his broad shoulders and muscular figure. Michael had never been there but had no problem imagining Arthur in a boxing ring, beating other people to a pulp. It probably came in handy in their line of work – although Michael never commented on that one, already knowing the reactions.

"It calms me down," Arthur protested, "so I don't smash in some poor lad's face."

"But you are smashing in faces, Arthur, that's what boxing is," Michael quipped, finally finding interest in what they were talking about. Both Elaine and the oldest Shelby seemed to be happy to discuss brutality and the art of harming other people over roasted pork and Elaine supported Michael's remark by nodding her head and pointing her fork at him with a full mouth. It was the first time she had even looked in his direction and he tried to shoot her a meaningful glance. One that said we need to talk. Of course, she wasn't having it and turned her eyes back to Arthur as if nothing happened.

"Can we stop talking about smashing faces for one minute in this house," Polly complained, but she patted her nephew on the arm, "There is some medicine the women were talking about the other day. Calms you down. I'll see what I can do."

At that Arthur nodded, his gaze fixed at his plate. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the situation and didn't want to discuss the matter any further. Nobody knew what to say for a moment, until Polly rose from her chair.

"I'll start cleaning up, " she announced, as everyone was finished with their food. It only took Elaine a fracture of a second to jump up as well.

"I'll help," she declared and brushed any protest from Polly away. This had become a ritual as well, every time she was over. By now Michael was sure she just wanted to avoid being alone in a room with him. Now Arthur was here, but for all Michael knew he could know about the job already. Michael didn't dare asking. Instead, he continued small talk with him, talking about Small Heath, life on the country side and questionable childhood memories back from before Michael was taken away. After another hour, Arthur told his good-bye and left. Unsurprisingly, Elaine announced she had to leave too. He didn't really know where she lived but was fairly sure it wasn't in Watery Lane with the rest of them. This was his chance.

"I'll bring you home," Michael offered in a determined voice. Her eyes shot up to his in slight shock. She hadn't expected that.

"Oh, you really don't have to," she said. If Michael didn't know better he would have though she was flustered but he could see the anger sparking in her eyes. She was acting. "I'm sure Polly could use some help around here. I didn't manage to finish the dishes-"

"Oh no, dear, it's alright." Polly's voice rang out from the kitchen and the older woman poked her head around the corner. She had a smug look on her face and didn't even hide her raised eyebrows and glances, switching from one to the other. Michael sighed inwardly. But right now, his mother's fallacy came in handy.

He didn't have to fake the awkward smile in her direction as they went outside – Elaine not having a chance to refuse after all.

***

Ada

Ada stared at the dozens of scratches that covered the dark wooden door before her. Every one of them held a little story, a part of her life and of the people she loved and cared for in the world. With an empty sigh, she tore away her gaze and mechanically tied the white fabric over the lower half of her face. Ada then opened the door.

The dark that filled the tiny room was barely chased away by the few candles on the nightstand. Fortunately, Ada lived here long enough and didn't need to see very much to know how to manoeuvre past the pillars of books and laundry. After Freddie and her brother faced Billy Kimber pretty much hand in hand, Tommy had offered them a great deal of the financial outcome, including a bigger house to live in. They refused, obviously – one of the reasons Ada and her now husband got together was their stubborn antipathy against the Shelby clan. Just because they happened to stand on the same side again, didn't mean the root of the problem was solved and Ada should be damned if she let her older brother control her through money and the promise of protection again.

Besides, even Tommy couldn't do anything about her current situation.

There, in the squeaky bed on the far end of the bedroom, laid Freddie Thorne, at the moment entirely unresponsive. He was on most days, really, and every time she went up to him, she prayed that he was just sleeping. So like every time, she waited a couple seconds and stared at his tall frame while holding her breath until she could make out the rise and fall of his chest.

The doctors had warned her, that the disease Freddie caught was highly contagious and in fact extremely dangerous. Ada could tell as much just by looking at him. But she had refused to let him be carted off to a hospital, where he would have been stuck with dying people and misery.

Now, Tommy paid the doctors to visit and treat Freddie just as he had paid for the medical equipment that was needed to do so. So in the end, Ada had abandoned her own policy and had to rely on her families methods once more. It's not like she had a choice.

Of course, Freddie wouldn't have any of it but was too weak to actually do anything against it. In the end, he had stopped struggling, after Ada had yelled at him that he should stop fighting the people who tried to keep him alive. It wasn't a pleasant talk, but necessary.

He had agreed under the condition that she kept her distance. At the time she agreed, full knowing that she couldn't bring herself to just abandon him completely.

Only the thought about following Freddie and therefore leaving their little son to grow up without parents entirely made her wear the mask and stay a couple feet away.

Obviously, Carl was not allowed to come anywhere near his father and Ada felt as bad as her husband about it.

She sat down at the old chair near the bed.

"Hello Freddie," she spoke timidly, after the silence became too heavy, "Sorry I haven't been around for this long, but everything is so busy lately." Her voice was muffled by the mask, but still audible. Ada still had the hope that Freddie heard her, even if he looked asleep. His eyes are probably heavy, she thought, he needs all the energy fighting the illness.

"Remember, when I told you Polly was looking for her children? It's so weird – I mean, I knew the stories but Pol never talked about them and I guess I never thought about them like ... like real people, you know?"

The flickering light did nothing to hide the shade of blue his skin now held, or the dark rings he had under his eyes. He didn't really look like a real person either and Ada drowned that thought immediately.

"Anyways," she continued with wavering voice, "she found them! Well, one of them. The boy. Tommy said her daughter died some time ago – I know what you want to say: obviously he was the one finding the boy and why did he have to stick his nose in other people's business again."

She smiled at that, imagining the rant Freddie would lose himself in, knowing that Tommy dragged another poor soul into the mess that was her family.

"But it's alright," Ada calmed him down, "Polly asked him to. I'm really happy for her, she deserves it. Although I can't even imagine her as a mother, can you? All caring and fuzzing about?"

A short silence occurred.

"No, probably not," she answered her own question, "but I couldn't imagine you as a father either when we met."

She didn't know how she led herself to the touchy topics every time she came here. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the room made everything a touchy subject, no matter what it was. Quickly, she wiped her cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears she spilled.

"But you are a great father, Freddie. Carl is a lucky kid."

She hauled herself off the chair; suddenly feeling like the floral print on the walls was suffocating her. There was so much more to tell him – about his son that seemed to learn something new on every day he couldn't see his dad. About his friends, asking about him every couple days. Ada could have sat there the whole day finding more details he didn't know yet. But it wasn't the same as seeing it for himself and it was something neither of them deserved.

So like every time, she refrained herself from embracing him and left the room with a faint "Until next time, Freddie".

***

Elaine

"What do you want?" Elaine asked, after both of them had refused to speak first for several minutes. They were walking down one of the busy streets in Small Heath, nowhere near her actual home yet but nonetheless a place she knew well. The dirty cobble stone enhanced every one of their steps and added to the cacophony that was industrial Birmingham. They were just two young people passing time; no one paid them any attention.

"What do you think?" Michael snapped but followed her begrudgingly. After all, he was getting what he wanted for days now: a simple talk. But of course, Elaine thought, he was acting like a total dick about it, now that his wish was granted. She couldn't say she was surprised. But unfortunately, de-escalation was never one of her strong abilities – probably a side effect of being raised with the Shelbys. So instead of answering honestly, Elaine tapped her chin with her index finger repeatedly and glanced into the sky. "Hmm," she hummed, "what could a stalker, staring at me for days and trying to catch me alone, possibly want?" In fake realization she clawed her fingers in his suit, relishing the sour look on his face as he followed the movement with his eyes, "It's my money, isn't it? Or my striking beauty? Is that what you're after?" Her fingers let go of the rough fabric of his jacket and instead found their way towards her own body and the spot right over her heart. "Oh my, Mr. Gray, I wasn't aware-"

"Shut up!" His harsh outburst made various people on the streets turn their heads towards the young pair. A lady in a purple costume gaped at Michael with true horror and disgust before she stalked past them with her nose high up in the air. To her, it must have looked like a man shouting at his girl. And what ungentlemanly fashion it was to use such harsh words towards your love – at least in public and for everyone to see.

Elaine grinned victoriously. "Now, now, Gray, don't ruin your reputation before you have one." He didn't even bother answering, not even a grunt. His glance was glued to the dirty cobblestone and when Elaine looked his way to catch a reaction, the only thing she got was the outline of his sharp features and bright skin against the dark house fronts framing the streets. In her mind she was comparing his face to Polly's, then to Tommy's, John's and Arthur's but it was hard to find a resemblance. Michael was a roguish kind of handsome, but different to his relatives. He looked the way whiskey tasted – firm and sharp, hitting your senses straight away and demanding your attention. Then, there was sweetness in his eyes that would strike you out of nowhere.

Elaine wondered how his family and future in Small Heath were going to shape him. Maybe she would stick around to find out herself.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have a reason not to talk to you about the job until now?" she began to discuss the point they both know was the thing they were avoiding.

"Yeah, but then I figured you were just being your usual annoying self," Michael shot back and his response was so unexpected it lead to stunned silence. Sensing a small victory, his lips broke into a half-smile briefly, before straightening out again. "I thought you would keep me in the loop. What happened?"

"I am, there is just nothing to update you on, really," Elaine ensured. "I am still gathering information about location, security and various other kinds of shit. I wasn't kidding when I told you it's more complicated than usual."

"I don't even know what usual is."

By now, Elaine had navigated them to a labyrinth of narrow cobblestone and curtains of drying laundry. She could tell Michael bit his tongue, holding back questions of where they were even going. She did him a favour and answered anyway.

"I never take the direct way home," she informed him and dived below a white bedsheet. "But we're almost there."

He brushed aside the sheet to follow her and narrowed his eyes at the surroundings. They were currently crossing a dirty backyard. There was wood piled in a corner, next to a barrel full of rainwater and a second barrel that was shut neatly with a wooden plank. On the opposite wall were the remnants of a flower bed, its crumpled leaves and brown stems long dead. Elaine's voice echoed slightly as she spoke.

"Is the city life exciting you yet, village boy?"

He looked back at her with a blank face. He must have practiced it lately.

"The back yards look the same, no matter where you are," he said and it sounded as if it had just occurred to him as well.

"Ah, they might look the same," Elaine quipped and walked over to the closed barrel, "but I doubt they smell the same as well." With odd enthusiasm she lifted the plank and took a couple steps back. Michael had followed her, curious of what it was she wanted to show him. His face crunched up at the stinging smell of rotting fish that greeted him. He waved at her quickly, telling her to close it off again. Elaine laughed but complied.

"What the hell was that for," Michael asked, still trying to breath in air that wasn't causing an urge to vomit.

"They're selling fish in there," Elaine told him, "it's where the leftover and intestines are kept. I figured you want to get to know the city with all its .... odours."

"I didn't live in a cave, there was fish in the village as well."

At that Elaine grinned again, displaying the exact opposite of Michael's expression.

"Granted," she said, "I just wanted to see your face."

Michael looked at her as if she just grew two more heads. She ignored it and left the backyard. He followed.

"When I took this way the first time, I was really curious about what was in that sealed off barrel. Surely there must have been a reason the wooden plank was on it. It turned out, the reason was to keep the cats away and the neighbourhood alive."

"And you're telling me this, because...?"

"I don't know, maybe for you to find some kind of moral of the story?"

They walked through the gap between two houses, not more than a couple feet wide. This caused Elaine to elongate her steps for a moment, so she could walk ahead of him. But now she tried to turn her head back to see if he came to any conclusions.

"Is the moral of the story that you are the worst tour guide ever?" he asked sarcastically.

"No."

"Is it that you take strange interest in other people's waste?"

"It's not about me," Elaine clarified impatiently. Her great metaphors were meeting deaf ears. "The moral is: Sometimes, there is a reason for people to seal away stuff from you. Sometimes, you should trust other people if they don't show you everything."

After they passed the gap between the houses, Michael skipped a few steps, to walk next to her again. He was taller than her and in turn, his legs were a bit longer. It was easy for him to catch up.

"So it is about you," he concluded, "not sharing information with me."

"Well, maybe," she admitted, "or about your family business. Or John's collection of photos of very excited, very nude women in magazines."

"No, it's about – what?" Michael shot her a confused glance and then shook his head briefly, "Your story doesn't make sense. I take part in the job, I need to know the background information."

"Not all of it."

"And you said you're an informant, so it is literally your job to find out what people don't want to show you."

"Exactly, it's my job. Doesn't mean it's a good one."

"You said –"

"We're here."

Michael's complains were interrupted as they came to a stop in front of a lean door. Someone had painted it completely blue, only they didn't use enough paint and the original colour of the wood was shining through. There was no door knob, only a little brazen hole to put a key in. Elaine turned around to Michael.

"This is my place. I know you want to know more about the job, but there really is nothing to tell. I want to be sure about things before we start and I promise I will let you know as soon as you can help me. Alright?"

She didn't really ask him but decided that she might as well wait for his reaction. Did he believe her? Michael hesitated and searched her gaze for any kind of lie. She met his eyes evenly.

"Alright," he agreed and she went inside, closing the door in his face with a brief good-bye.


	4. Chapter 4

Michael

Alright.

This little word was tying Michael to his chair at Polly's kitchen table. Alright was the word he was repeating inwardly as he practiced patience for a week. Elaine wasn't coming over to dinner since they talked, but he felt like this was a good thing. It meant she was busy. It meant they were getting closer.

His mother had tried to get some information out of him about the relationship between him and Elaine. Michael couldn't exactly tell her the truth but tried to brush off his behaviour the other day as gentlemanly. He hadn't wanted for Elaine to be wandering the streets alone, he had said, it had been mere politeness. Polly had responded that a girl like Elaine didn't need to be looked after, but she was appreciating how well-mannered her son was. She also didn't believe him at all – not that Polly would admit that, but Michael could read her pretty well by now. He was still trying to decide if her impression about the situation bothered him or not.

Michael was currently sat in one of the bulgy armchairs in the living room. The standard lamp was the only thing lighting the pages of the book he was reading. A dramatic story about a soldier fighting in World War. He had thought there was enough of the war still present in his immediate surroundings, but the romanticized telling of heroic battles and tragic fates captivated him.

There was a knock on the door.

Looking up, he realized how dark it had become by now and remembered suddenly that Polly went to bed at some point. She never went to bed particularly early so it must have been the middle of the night already. Which made the knocking even more surprising. For a short moment, Michael thought he might have imagined it. But then the knocking started again, louder this time. He wasn't an idiot. Slowly, he rose from the armchair and stood in the dim room, listening for any other noise. Did Polly hear? Was there talking outside?

But there was nothing. His next thought was to wake Polly. Maybe she knew what this was about, maybe something about the business she had refused to tell him. It wouldn't surprise him if she was used to stuff like that and had a ten-step plan on what to do in this case. Waking Polly was probably not the worst thing he could do, but he couldn't get past the thought that it would mean to literally wake his mom because there were weird noises in the house at night.

Most certainly not.

Instead, Michael switched the lamp off and made his way over to the door, his bare feet padding over the wood softly. There was a row of windows next to the door, covered by heavy curtains. He tried to will away the wild pounding of his heart. Instead of calming his breathing it seemed like every exhale echoed through the hallway. A moment later it was overshadowed by the stranger at the door, who had now turned to fully bang on the door, clearly angry. Before he could question himself, he poked his head through the curtains in front of the window, now that the darkness of the room hid him. As he saw who the angry stranger was, his breath hitched in his throat and he ran to the door, pretty much ripping it open.

"Took you long enough," Elaine hissed and shoved him backwards into the house. Michael had been right: she was angry now. Angry and restless. She walked into the kitchen, her gaze brushing over every single item, as if she had never seen them before.

"Hello to you too," Michael said dryly but was met with silence. He followed her around, waiting for her to explain herself. She didn't.

"Would you tell me what you want here? What are you looking for?" he tried again. This time, she turned to him and only now did he notice the bundle of dirty rags she was carrying.

"What the fuck is that," he inquired.

By now a mixture of impatience, annoyance and something he identified as worry was knotting together in his chest and he just wanted to know what was going on.

Elaine stared at him for a couple of seconds and he was suddenly painfully aware how he must look – his hair was unkempt, he was only wearing a loose white shirt over his suit pants and the soles of his bare feet were slightly burning on the cold floor.

She blinked a couple of times, contemplating something, and then brushed past him to enter the living room.

By now, Michael was feeling like a stupid puppy, walking after her while she continued staring at the inventory like this was a fucking art gallery. Or as if she was looking for something. It was still pitch black in there, although Michael's eyes had gotten used to it enough to see a little bit. He moved to switch the lamp back on.

"Don't!" Elaine's whisper-yelling voice made him jump back from the lamp like he burned himself. Michael turned around, now finally fed up with her weird behaviour. With a couple steps he walked right into her personal space and drew himself up to his full height.

"Alright," he hissed, "you come here in the middle of the night, without a warning, and act like a fucking lunatic. You owe me an explanation."

She stared up into his face, unmoving. He could barely make out her features in the dark, but her eyes were gleaming. Both of them refused to step back.

"I seem to owe you a lot of things," Elaine answered eventually, "money, explanations, a part in the job." She drew her face even closer to his, but it was not an affectionate gesture. "Why do you think I'm here?" She then pushed the bundle she had still been holding into his chest. He took it, glancing back up at her face shortly. It was heavier than he had thought; there was clearly something wrapped up inside of the fabric. He pulled the layers away and come face to face with –

"A lion?" In his hands, Michael held a little statue of a lion, although he couldn't make out much of the colour or details. "It's holding something."

"Unimportant," Elaine said. "Listen. I told you I'd tell you as soon as you can help me with the job. This –" She cupped the lion with her hands, "is the job."

"You got it without me?" Michael was furious within seconds. "We had a deal! I can't believe you pulled it off without me!"

"Shhh! You want the whole town to know?" Elaine hissed, "You would have been in the way, alright. But you said you wanted a part in it? Here it is. Hide it."

"Fuck you." He took a step back and stared at her incredulously. She had ensured him there was nothing to discuss yet. She had said she wanted to be sure before telling him anything. And now she was standing here, waving that fucking lion in his face as if it was nothing. Michael had enough. He sure as hell wouldn't help her out after this, especially not with that cheap of a trick to make him feel as if he actually had a part in this. His chest tightened and it was as if someone lit a fire in his stomach. "Get out."

"Wait, you don't –"

"I don't what? I don't understand? Really?" he was seething, "You must take me for a fucking idiot. You fucking tricked me, and you didn't think I would get that? Fuck off!" It took all his willpower to keep his voice down. The only thing that could make this situation even worse, was his mother joining the party.

"Wow, Gray, that were a lot of curses just now."

"I said fuck off. Don't make me repeat myself."

There was a moment of silence. There seemed to be a lot of those between them, he realized. She was just staring, fidgeting with her sleeve for a moment.

"I will," she said and her serene voice made him pause in his anger. She sounded almost defeated. "Right after you let me talk. The sooner you do that, the sooner I'm gone."

Michael nodded shortly, even if he didn't feel like listening at all.

"Back when I told you about it all, I said the problem was not only getting the thing, but also what comes after that. I need to keep it somewhere until it's needed again. They will notice the statue is gone and they will come looking for it. They will probably figure out it was me. I can't keep it. And no one knows you yet." She pauses, waiting for a reaction. Michael contemplated her words.

"And you expect me to just go with it." It was a statement, not a question.

"It doesn't make a difference if I'm lying."

This was a strange thing to say. He would have thought Elaine would try to convince him or justify herself. But she had a point. Plus, Michael figured, she wouldn't endanger Polly and in turn, couldn't endanger him. He sighed.

"I just need to hide it?" he asked and they both knew this settled the deal.

"Yeah, but no one can find it. And you can't tell anyone. Not Polly, not the others. You can't fuck this up." She was serious. She didn't ridicule it, like usually.

"Don't you trust me?" Michael asked, because it was so ironic.

"I have to," Elaine said, because it was the truth.

***

Tommy

"So, there are a few things that need to be discussed with the family."

"Isn't there someone missing then?"

Tommy's head snapped up to John with an annoyed glare. Unfortunately for his brother, Polly was not the glaring type.

"Discussed with the corrupted part of the family," she clarified in a voice that could turn lava to ice and break it in the same second. John shrank back visibly.

"Why is Esme here then?" came Elaine's voice from the corner. She had her arm raised like an elementary student asking a question about the math homework and her voice was dripped with feigned innocence. Finn, obviously spurred by her brave wit, played along.

"Why am I here then?" he asked in the same fashion and promptly got a smack over the head from Arthur behind him.

"Shut up, Finny," the oldest brother quipped, "you're the worst pain in the arse of us all."

"Yeah, but I'm not corrupted."

"Everyone shut up," Tommy shouted over the other voices. He could feel a headache coming and the family meeting didn't even really start yet. "As John noticed so cleverly, the only one missing here is Michael. That's because he happens to be one of the things I want to talk about later. All you need to know for now is, he isn't part of our business, so he doesn't need to be here when we talk about it, alright? Any more questions?"

Everyone in this room knew Tommy well enough to realize that this was, in fact, a rhetorical question.

"Alright." His cold stare went through his little office, fixating one face after another. He had their undivided attention, which was, given the amount of people and their lively spirits, a rare occurrence. It took them long enough. "First of all, we need to state the status quo. John?"

The Shelby in question straightened his back, knowing that everyone was watching him instead now. In a hasty motion he took the toothpick from between his lips and met the gaze of his brother over the table.

"Looking good, Tommy, "he started, a little hesitantly at first, "The races are going well and no one is bothering us at the stands so our men are barely facing competition. I think we have a reputation big enough so that we can lower the guards a bit and draw back a few men."

Tommy noticed that while he had spoken, John had continuously rolled the toothpick between his fingers and the glance he was getting now was bordering on anxious. His younger brother was carrying the majority of the logistic business with the races at the moment and it seemed that the one most afraid that he'd slip and fall was himself.

Tommy nodded in understanding and turned his eyes to Arthur. The oldest Shelby was the one for the handy work. He was at the races just as much as John, although his job was more one for the spirits of their men. If there was a problem, Arthur was the first one punching it in the guts, which meant he was the first one to notice anything weird going on, right there, at the centre of the events.

Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Yeah, John Boy is right, things are going smooth at the moment."

Tommy noticed the way John's shoulders relaxed instantly at some affirmation. And he noticed the way Esme patted his back with a quiet smile. His attention turned back to Arthur, who had continued to speak.

"And if we let go of a few men, there would be less protection for our bookies but also less checks to be paid. I don't see the harm in that. The men are confident."

After he finished, the office was silent for a minute. Everyone was waiting for Tommy, who took his time lighting a cigarette and leaning back in his chair. The smoke vanished into the air, and he followed the ringlets and curves it made for a moment.

"John, you're doing well, the increase of our income is also thanks to you and your sharp eye on the numbers. Arthur as well; if you say the men are in high spirits, then I believe you. However," He stated and the smiles that had settled on the two brother's faces quickly vanished at the last word, "we won't drop any of our men." He puffed out another cloud of smoke but didn't move a single muscle apart from that. "Our streak of luck won't last forever. You might not see any competitors but they are still there. Watching. Waiting for us to let our guard down. Every man stays where he is, we can afford it."

John nodded as an answer, but his eyes were glued to the floor. There was another pat from Esme, but this time, it was reassuring. Tommy sighed inwardly. Maybe he had to talk to him at some point, so he stopped beating himself up so much. On the other hand this also meant that he was taking the business seriously. Tommy wasn't sure how to deal with it at the moment and made a mental note to ask Polly about it later. She usually knew what to do when emotions were concerned. For now, it was time to bring up a lighter topic.

"What we can also afford," he started again and despite the good nature of his decision, his voice kept monotone and his face stoic, "is a race horse."

He could practically feel Polly's eyes slowly burn a hole in the side of his head.

"A horse?" Ada asked incredulously, "Why would we need a horse?"

"I've always told you that we want to become a legitimate business. But we also need to be a successful one. That means we need connections." Tommy paused for a brief moment, waiting for them to follow. "We need to get where the important people are. In the higher ranks of the races."

Polly nodded thoughtfully, "Alright, what's the plan?" For the first time since they all came through the door, Tommy properly met her gaze.

"What do you mean, what's the plan?" he asked lowly, "We go to an auction and get one. That is the plan. In five weeks. I already told Charlie. Arthur, John, you're coming too. Tell the boys as well, will you?"

"Can I come too?" asked Finn excitedly.

"No," came Tommy's prompt answer, accompanied with a warning finger in his direction.

"Can I get the horse when you don't need it anymore?" suggested Elaine with a grin.

"No," was the identical answer with the identical gesture. Elaine grinned even wider.

"Was worth a try," she stated and shrugged, "no, but really, what about me? Can I come?"

It wasn't so much an urgent question but a curious one. Tommy held in a second and took another drag from the cigarette.

"What would you want there?" he asked with equal curiosity.

"It's a fancy event. I've never been. Why not?"

Tommy was distracted by a comical snort coming from the far corner of the room. Everyone turned to Esme, the source of the noise. "Come on," she defended herself, "Elaine at a fancy event?" John next to her smiled sheepishly, but Tommy could see the same amusement in his eyes. And also in Arthur's. Before Elaine had the chance to start another argument – and she undoubtedly was, according to her raised brows and challenging pose – Tommy interjected.

"You are busy," he declared, as if he had full view into her calendar, "I gave you a job. And you have no clue about horses."

At that Arthur threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. "He's right, Lainy," he laughed with his booming voice, "You'd only be in the way."

John supported him by patting her head like he did with his own children, "Don't worry, we'll tell you what you missed."

It took exactly 0.6 seconds for Elaine to jab Arthur in the ribs and to shove John away from her, but she did so laughing along. "You are such arses," she declared. Tommy was glad she didn't argue and chose not to elaborate on the topic.

"Alright," he interrupted their little fight, "back to the meeting. As I said earlier, one of the topics involves Michael." That did the trick. They all shut up and turned back to a serious mood. Only they weren't looking at Tommy anymore, but at Polly. She straightened her back and took it as a cue to continue.

"Yes. You've all met my son by now and he's been here for some days. But I feel like I should clarify a couple of things. Officially and with everyone present."

"Not everyone," Elaine murmured in a tone that was suspiciously neutral. Tommy studied her face but was met with blank nothingness. From his own experience he knew that this kind of face usually tried to hide something, but this was not the time to inquire. He turned around to Polly instead, who chose to ignore Elaine's remark.

"I want Michael to be a part of the family and hope you accept him as such. But there are certain things I want to protect him from, and meetings like this are part of it."

"But we didn't speak about anything illegal," noticed Arthur with a bit of wonder in his voice. Esme, stood on the opposite side of the office, furrowed her brows and came to the rescue. "Yeah, that makes this one different from all the others, "she said, "If you tell him one part of the business, he'll stumble into the other one soon enough."

It was a rare occurrence that John's wife and Polly stood on the same side. Although they respected each other deeply and probably knew way more about what was going on than Tommy would ever expect, they both were incredibly strong-willed and stubborn women. Esme was a Lee after all. The potential for arguments was huge and Polly's role as a counsellor in all things feminine didn't help that. Tommy thought back to the time he visited his brother and was met with a raging war about how to raise children correctly. He didn't quite grasp what exactly it was they were fighting about but he sure as hell didn't stay to find out. He cleared his throat.

"Polly asked me to leave Michael out of the business and I agreed. But he doesn't, which is why we are talking about that now. He'll probably ask you questions, or already has. Any detail about what we do evades the purpose of his protection completely." Tommy looked over at his aunt, silently asking if she wanted to add anything else. She shook her head lightly.

"So we should lie to him?" came Finn's unexpected question. Ada turned around to him.

"No, you should just not say anything at all," she corrected, "It's different."

"Is it?" Finn retorted, clearly not convinced, and crossed his arms.

While his relatives around him began to shoot opinions and thoughts at each other, Tommy kept his eyes on Finn. The boy didn't notice, to busy standing up against his brothers and Esme. Tommy didn't expect him to speak up so blatantly. It's not that he was shy or scared, but something about his outburst seemed to be personal. Tommy figured that Michael's and Finn's situations were similar to some extent. After all, the youngest Shelby was kept out of the loop for so long, due to his age. He still didn't take part in a lot, but the brothers agreed that it would be best for him to participate in the meetings, so that he got a feeling for it and knew how things were handled. Finn had complained about the restrictions since he was able to pronounce the word 'business'. Tommy's gaze flew through the room and was suddenly caught by a pair of green eyes. Elaine stared at him, not taking part in the discussion at all. That was a first. The staring contest continued a while longer, until she turned to watch the others argue, decidedly ignorant to his suspicion. That was the time, Tommy decided that the meeting was over.

***

Ada

Ada had been squished between Esme and Arthur for the whole meeting, the latter pushing himself past her as soon as Tommy called it a day. She wanted to get out as soon as possible, but her slender figure didn't stand a chance against her brother's. She was the last one at the door.

"Ada, come here for a second."

She closed her eyes shortly, marvelling at how close her escape route was. Then, she turned around to Tommy and took a few steps back to his desk. As expected, her brother didn't move at all and was still sitting behind it like a king on his throne.

"What is it," she asked, dreading the answer. He reached below the table top and retreated a neatly packed stack of money from it. But before he had a chance to explain, Ada shook her head already.

"Keep it," she demanded harshly, but he completely ignored her and held it in her direction, ready for her to take. She stayed where she was.

"Ada."

"I said keep it!" Her voice was wavering and there was a buzzing energy inside her that didn't allow her to keep her hands still. Angrily, she brushed her hair out of her face and shifted her weight slightly.

"I won't keep it," was Tommy's simple answer. Obviously, he was calm personified.

"And I won't take it."

"Do it for Carl."

Ada knew that Tommy was already paying for Freddie's treatment, which couldn't be cheap. She had planned to get a job – outside of the Shelby business of course, but so far to no avail. No one wanted to employ a mother with a toddler and a dying husband. Fighting down her inner turmoil, she went over to the desk and fetched the money out of her brother's hand.

She left without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

Tommy

Polly shifted in her seat in front of the large desk. She had been in his office a countless amount of times but for the first time Tommy saw that she wasn't entirely comfortable. It was unusual, because even if she was sad, angry, or all of the above, these four walls were like home to her. Something they worked for and build up from nothing. That meant the problem did not ley in the environment, no matter how stubbornly she stared at the globe behind him, or the telephone on his desk. A week had passed since the meeting and there was already a new problem as it seemed.

"As much as I appreciate your company," he began finally, "I think we could save a lot of energy if you just told me why you're here."

His words were met with a vicious glance in his direction. He could see her gnashing her teeth as her mind worked.

"Not even a month."

She paused for a moment, shaking her head in unbelieving frustration. "Not even a single month since Michael returned to me." Now her eyes found Tommy, sitting behind his desk as per usual, looking at her with a blank face and icy glare. "And I'm already fearing for his life."

"Well, motherly feelings aren't always easy, Pol-"

"You know damn well I'm not talking about motherly feelings!" He voice had raised considerably but she calmed herself down with visible effort. Her hands were shaking as she took the lighter on the dark wooden desk and lit herself a cigarette. "I've always trusted you, Thomas, trusting you with business, with the family ... And God knows you never say anything, you never tell anyone. Not back when we had to deal with Billy Kimber, or with the bloody guns..."

Tommy could tell she was talking herself into rage, spiralling herself in to a full blown monologue. He respected her for her wise words and good advice in many situations. This, however, was not one of them.

"Say what you want to say, I'm listening. But don't waste my time with vague bullshit."

"Why are there people following us?"

The statement hung heavy in the air. Polly took a nervous drag from the cigarette, her eyes shifty and back straight. It took a couple of seconds for Tommy to decide on the best strategy. It involved rolling his eyes.

"It's temporary. They don't follow Michael – as far as I know they don't even know about him." His tone was composed, informative. He knew, if he tried to sound compassionate, she would look right through it. There was no acting with Polly.

"You're not answering my question," she noticed and leaned a bit forward. "Why are they following us?"

There was no way he would tell her the plans. She didn't need to know, it was not her concern. In fact, Tommy knew that if he'd tell her here and now, there would be no peaceful moment for him until next year.

"There was a job, a couple days ago. This is the aftermath. They won't find what they are searching for and eventually leave. It has nothing to do with you or Michael. They won't come near you two."

On the contrary, Tommy thought, the fact that they were following Polly as well was proof that they had no clue about the current situation. There really was no reason to worry, but his aunt clearly disagreed.

"Nothing to do with me," she laughed humourlessly, "I thought you've learned by now that everything around here always concerns all of us."

***

Elaine

Elaine couldn't deny she was walking on unsteady ground – metaphorically speaking. It had been a week since her surprise visit at Michael's. She didn't dare contact him again, in fear of someone discovering him and their affiliations. To say she was twitchy was an understatement. Who could blame her – all she had at the moment was the flimsy trust she had in Michael and Tommy's vague promise of protection. And the cold certainty that she was followed by people who weren't Blinders made her question the latter.

Her information and meetings with Tommy beforehand had suggested that their target had a very shallow knowledge of the Peaky Blinders, and in turn, of her. Elaine had travelled a good distance to get to their accommodation and they seemed far too wealthy to concern themselves with Birmingham's gang milieu. That is, until they had a reason to.

People from the Lee family and other gangs in the area reported people following them as well, and Elaine assumed there were strangers keeping tabs on the Shelbys themselves as well.

She spent her days acting out normality – a mundane daily routine away from crime. It was useless to keep away completely from the Shelby family – it was far from a secret that she worked with them, so trying to hide that would raise more suspicion than it would muffle. Instead she paid them regular visits in the betting shop without indulging in a new job and while trying to keep as far away from Michael as possible. Elaine wondered if he had told anyone from their current arrangement.

There were no changes in Polly's attitude towards her. If she knew anything, Elaine would have noticed.

Currently, she was on her way to the Garrison in an attempt to loosen up a bit. Garrison Lane was as dark as always, house fronts and street covered with thick layers of ash and dirt. The sound of hard work was flooding the air despite the late hour and the bursts of flame lashing out from one of the factories enlightened her face as she walked. Despite all that noise, she was aware that there were some men hiding among the people, watching her. Elaine was alone, as most of the time, and supressed the urge of quickening her pace towards the secure haven that was the pub at the end of the road. She would love to think the men wouldn't attack her out in the open but honestly doubted it. All Blinders were either already inside or not here at all and she had lived in Small Heath enough to know that the bystanders in the street wouldn't dare getting involved in any violent events around here.

Her hands were shaking by now and she tucked them away in the long sleeves of her coat. As she came close to the Garrison, she noticed some unfamiliar faces in front of the building, staring at her. Her plan was to just brush past them as quickly as possible, but as they straightened their backs and took a step towards her, she quickly decided against it. Cursing inwardly she walked past the Garrison, past her security. By now the men behind her had come closer and the ones waiting in front of the pub joined them. Elaine's first thought was that she had been found out. But that was impossible, she made sure there was no proof left behind. Which brought her to the second possibility:

Because they didn't find anything by following the suspected groups, they now went to question them directly. Her being a young woman made her an obvious first victim among the Peaky Blinders.

The dim lights of the Garrison's windows were left behind her by now and she made her way to the small area behind it. The cobblestone was worn-down and the space was devoid of the usual tables and booths of the daily market. Her stomach clenched at the realization that there was nothing she could do. She carried a pocket knife for cases like that but there was no way she could stand up to that many attackers. Physical combat had never been her forte and the men she was acquainted with never even taught her the basics.

If someone touches you, Arthur had said, just punch them in the dick.

"Elaine! Where are you going?"

She startled visibly at the voice and turned unbelievingly into the direction it had come from.

Of all the people, she thought desperately and watched Michael as he approached her from the backdoor of the pub. From his position, he couldn't see her followers.

"This is really not a good time," she stuttered, torn between warning him and just sending him away. He came to a halt in front of her, furrowing his brows.

"Is it ever?" His voice was half-jokingly but she could tell he was serious to an extent. "The boys told me to get you. John said you promised to come along today." Panic grew in her chest. He hadn't noticed the men yet and if he said anything confidential now, they were dead.

"Yeah, I'll come in a second, you can ... go ahead."

"What's wrong?"

Why, in all the heavens, was he so perceptive? And why did she lose the ability to act when frightened? She shook her head warningly and Michael, in a sudden outburst of what seemed to be care, took her by the shoulders, keeping her from walking away further.

"You look like you've seen a dead body," he stated and then his eyes wandered over her shoulder. He hesitated. Elaine could feel the eyes of five men boring into them. Five men, who, with a high probability, didn't mind facing a single young man when trying to get a job done. She prayed Michael would sense the situation and run.

"Who are they?"

Of course he didn't.

***

Ada

The money weighted heavy in her pocket. It was as if Tommy himself was breathing down her neck – she had the same queasy feeling when he stared at her for too long, as if she was a criminal. Quite ironic, if Ada thought about it now. She had spent the day with Carl, trying to pay twice as much attention to him, to make up for Freddie's absence. Now the tiredness pulled on her shoulders. If Ada was being honest, she didn't know where she wanted to go, but she never did and always ended up in the same pub. Not the Garrison, certainly not the Marquise or any other place in Blinder territory. As per usual, she wanted to be anonymous. Take a break from her life.

An hour later and she was on her third drink, sitting in the corner and staring at her fingers. The first few times she went here, people eyed her sceptically but know she was basically part of the interior. Interior some men wanted to talk to desperately.

Someone cleared their throat next to her.

Surprised, Ada tore her eyes from the glass in front of her and looked at the person. A working class man, dirt on his pants and worn down sleeves. His hair was short and there was a tiny cut on his chin from when he shaved earlier. He could have been anyone.

"Can I help you?" Ada asked neutrally. It was clear the stranger wanted something from her, since she sat quite far from the rest of the people in here. And yet, he sat right next to her.

"Oh, you look far more in need of help than me," observed the man and pulled a sympathetic face. It angered Ada immediately; the last thing she needed was pity. But she had to admit the state she was in was quite pitiful, so she couldn't really blame him.

"I had better days," Ada agreed, although the term better months seemed more accurate. The man nodded and took a sip of his beer.

"Tell me about it," he laughed dryly, "I'm left alone with a sick wife and three children and one of the kids doesn't even want to know me anymore."

Ada's head shot up surprised and she stared at the stranger. He answered with a sad grin. "Yeah," he continued, "sounds awful, right? That's why I'm here after all" He raised the beer a little bit, indicating he was planning on getting as drunk as possible really fast. Ada knew what he meant.

"Yeah, same here," she admitted and bumped her glass against his, "Although I wanted to quit with the self-pity. Doesn't do any good."

The man laughed - an honest, open mouthed laugh that made his eyes turn into slits and his nose wrinkle. "The buzz doesn't drive you away from the self-pity, girl, it shoves you right into it."

His cynical humour was so contagious, Ada began laughing with him. "You got a point there, mate," she agreed. Any further conversation was interrupted for a moment, when one of the men sitting around another table, playing cards, screamed suddenly. It was a weird mixture of a battle cry and the sound someone would make if getting hit in the solar plexus. Ada knew both of these sounds well – the songs of her childhood were crude.

The angry man was visibly drunk and raised to his feet in a startled jump. He grabbed the collar of one of his companions. Insults and fists were thrown before the barman and the others of the not-so-merry group dragged the fighting drunkards out of the Pub. The door swung shut and it only took the remaining visitors a short moment to return to whatever it was they had been doing before.

"Soon enough I won't have to watch these fuckers hang at each other's throats," stated the stranger next to her in a dreamy tone, "and I won't have to drown myself in beer either."

"What do you mean," Ada questioned, not quite following. What were they talking about? Oh yes, misery. The man seemed like he had waited for her to ask and jumped to an explanation quickly.

"You heard me," he grinned and stared down his glass, as if he thought about a private joke, "I think I found something to help my wife –" He broke off, searching her gaze, "Listen, girl, you can't tell anyone, alright? It's a ... well, it's not a secret but it's not exactly legal either, if you know what I'm saying."

Ada knew exactly what he was saying. And so, she nodded, leaning further in his direction, to hear more.

"There is this medication I got from a friend of a friend of a... well, you get it. I think it's from around London but where the blokes up there get their wonders from, I have no idea. And it is a wonder, I tell you, fucking magic. Give it to your wife, my friend said, and she'll be up and running in no time. And would you believe-"

"No," interrupted Ada, who was fighting with her shaking hands again at this point, "I really don't believe you." They had searched everywhere, asked every doctor in every hospital just to cure her husband of the deadly incurable disease Freddie had. It had been the first time Ada really asked something of her brother and just like with the money, she hated herself for it. But if even Tommy couldn't find a way to help, then the reason was simply that there really was no way Freddie could be cured just like that. Ada didn't want to get her hopes up again, just to see them crushed once more. No, she didn't believe this random stranger and his fairy tales.

"Ah, but you should," the man insisted, but his voice was neither urgent, nor patronizing. He sounded as if he knew a secret that put him above the dependency on other people's opinions. From what he was saying, maybe he did. "I understand that you are in a similar situation. Don't look at me like that, your face says it all."

His large hand reached into his pocket, rummaging for a while and then retrieving something tiny. When he opened his palm over the table, Ada saw that a little bottle of clear liquid landed on the table top. There was no label on it and if she didn't know better she would have taken it for water or perfume.

"It doesn't look like much but I tell you, you could see the blush return to my woman's cheeks," he continued, growing more enthusiastic with every word. Ada reached out to the bottle, but the man took it back immediately.

"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, but her words barely made it out of her chest. The man turned serious again.

"You look like I did not too long ago. I know how you feel and I offer you what was offered to me. Of course, I can't give it for free but..."

"I don't want it." Again, Ada had interrupted him, but she had done it with more vehemence than the first time. "I don't know you," she went on, "and although this is a very kind offer, I accepted that there is no way to help my husband. Some magic potion won't change that." With more force than necessary, she stood up, nearly knocking over the stranger's beer in the process. Before she vanished completely, the man grabbed her wrist gently.

"I'll be here if you change your mind," he stated firmly and let her go.

***

Elaine

Neither Michael nor the five men across from them were open to her calming words. The strangers had clearly lost all patience and Michael possessed the confidence of someone who had never been in serious danger. Elaine drew herself up in the space between them, stretching her arms to keep the two sides apart, spilling pleas and diplomatic suggestions.

She caught the first hit with her jaw.

It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, but the sudden sharp pain still took her off guard. Elaine stumbled into Michael, clutching her face with both hands.

The man who had delivered the punch lunged forward again, this time grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her roughly in his direction. She didn't see much at the moment but was faintly aware that Michael had been holding onto her. A mistake, now that the momentum of her own body being pulled forced him forward too. He lost his balance.

A second man made a grab for him, slinging his arm around his throat in a choke hold. Elaine tried to scream out but was cut short as the first attacker's hand clawed at her hair. She whimpered loudly, scratching blindly at his wrists, while more hands tried to restrain her. There were muffled cries and wild shouting and suddenly, the hand in her hair was ripped away, taking some strands with it.

Suddenly free, Elaine fell over her own feet and landed on the hard stone of the street. The impact vibrated through her wrist and up her left arm.

She looked up in time to see Michael elbow one of the men in the face ungraciously and hitting another in blind desperation. In turn, he was promptly hit square in the face himself. He dropped next to her, panting heavily. She felt entirely numb as she took hold of his sleeve - eyes wide and shaking. Michael managed to pick himself up, overbalancing, but catching himself. He returned her grip and pulled her to her feet as well, both in a silent agreement. And then they ran.

She thought she could hear one of the men laugh. It didn't matter. Elaine felt her own pulse rush in her ears. She was still disoriented and Michael a bit faster than her. He didn't drop her hand when she stumbled, not able to keep up with him. There were footsteps behind them. They ran through the winding backstreets, trying to change directions frequently. The burning in her lungs was horrible, but it cleared her head a bit.

She recognized the surroundings. "Right!" she choked, but Michael heard her and rounded the next corner. When he was about to run further, she pulled him to the side harshly, into another alleyway, down a flight of stairs and below a bridge. They pressed themselves against the slippery wall underneath. It was the place Ada had met up with Freddie back in the day. No one had ever found them there and Elaine hoped Michael and her had the same luck. They were both heaving by now; trying to keep quiet only worsened it. Then, there were footsteps above them and she held her breath anxiously. The steps grew quieter and vanished eventually. She exhaled heavily.

They stayed a couple minutes in silence, both in slight paranoia. For the first time this evening, Elaine could really look at Michael. Without adrenaline-fuelled fear and clouded eyes. He returned her gaze, probably taking in her deranged appearance. Then he grinned, unexpectedly, and promptly split his dry lips in the process. And despite everything, this was the one thing that forced her out of her stupor and into the realization that they had made it.

"Man, you really took some," she stated, grinning as well. They had made it.

Michael leaned heavily against the damp stone wall, not really caring about his clothes anymore. "You're one to talk, "he quipped back, "you look like shit."

She clicked her tongue at that and tried to comb her fingers through her knotted hair. It only caused her a new wave of stinging pain on her scalp, and she retreated her fingers hastily with a hiss. She supposed she had to wait for later, to sort herself out.

"What do we do now," Michael asked with an odd calmness. His thoughts were somewhere else entirely. It was still a good question.

"Well," she started, "we can't just go back to the Garrison. There is medical supply at Polly's – at your house. We should –"

"No." he interrupted her fiercely. Michael pushed himself off the wall and grabbed her shoulder firmly. "She can't know. If I don't show up at the pub again that's the first place she'll look. She can't know." His grip got tighter. It was that voice again; the voice that told her his decision was made and no seven armies from hell could bring him to change his mind. Elaine sighed.

"Alright. But we need to sort ourselves out. We can't go to my place either, unless you want a round two."

They both pondered for a while. They had to stay in Blinder territory, but Elaine agreed that they should stay away from Michael's relatives until they could assess the damage and think about a story they could tell. Unfortunately, there was pretty much no one who wouldn't report back to the Shelby's immediately. Except for ...

"Ada." Elaine's head whipped up quickly as the idea struck her. She was met with a confused stare from Michael. "She wouldn't tell on us. She is a trained nurse. She is too nice not to help but too proud to spill the tea if that means doing Tommy a favour. She and Carl are living in a flat nearby until Freddie's better. It's perfect."

Michael didn't seem convinced but didn't have any other ideas and so he followed her. They glanced up and down the street and around every corner before moving on. The way took much longer than normally, but at least they kept safe.

Finally, they arrived in front of a second floor flat in a dark corridor. She knocked a couple of times. Out there, in the dark streets, Elaine hadn't been able to see Michaels face properly but now the dim light in the hallway helped her.

"You, uhm...", she began and pointed above her own cupid's bow uncertainly. Michael took the hint and wiped his sleeve under his nose, tinting its fabric red. He was just wiping the blood further over his face and Elaine supressed a giggle at the grim sight. Instead, she gave him a short nod and thumbs up.

The door opened.

"Oh, what the fuck," Ada exclaimed, clutching a sleeping toddler to her chest.


	6. Chapter 6

Ada

Ada finished wrapping the bandage around Elaine's wrist, securing it tightly. They were sitting around the creaking kitchen – slash living room table, each a cup of tea in front of them.

"Do I even want to know what you two have been up to?" she asked in a mixture of worry and annoyance. While Michael seemed determined to find the secrets of the universe in the contents of his cup, Elaine's gaze travelled through the room. Ada tried not to feel embarrassed about her little flat. If it was up to her, she would have stayed in her home with Freddie, but his current state still forced her to keep their son as far away from him as possible. After moving back in with the Shelbys was quickly discarded as a possibility, Ada rented out this little room. But now she saw it through the eyes of her visitors: the old kitchenette on one wall, a single bed opposite to it, now occupied by the bundle of blankets and hair that was Carl. She had really tried to create a nice environment, but her attempts were at war with the wild nature of a fast growing kid. Carl hadn't managed to knock over the flowers on the table and shelves yet, but her colourful cushions were all over the room, mixed with wooden toys and building blocks and Ada noticed just now that the wall right next to the door was decorated with little drawings. It was a mess.

"Ada, did you notice something weird around lately," asked Elaine cautiously.

"Like what?" Ada answered. Conversations with beginnings like that never ended well. Elaine clearly didn't want to talk about it but she had started it after all.

"I mean, have you seen people you don't know around you?"

Ada sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "No," she stated, "only the guard dogs my dear brother left all around the house."

She saw the shoulders of her friend sag in relief, just as Michael's head snapped up abruptly. They were wearing opposing expressions.

"There are Blinders around?" he wanted to know. His eyes were wide. Ada hadn't had much chance to talk to Polly's son since he joined the family, but they had crossed paths a couple times. It was unfortunate that their first real conversation was so grim. At least he seemed to find the prospect of gangsters watching her at all times just as disturbing as herself.

"Yes, can you believe it? At this point I'm not even sure if Tommy is watching me or the money he's spending on me."

Michael ignored her last statement and turned to Elaine. "They might have seen us," he said. It was all rather suspicious. And Ada had enough not knowing what was going on.

"Why can't they?" she inquired, "What happened? What did you mean 'people I don't know'?"

She was met with shifty eyes and pointed silence.

"If Polly finds out her son got dragged into trouble, she's gonna-"

"Yes!" Elaine exclaimed, "I know." She was picking at the edges of her bandage and Ada suppressed the urge to swat her hand away. "We just don't know what to say yet."

"Well, for now", Ada suggested dryly, "you could tell me the truth."

Finally, the two of them had given up and just told her what had happened.

"So, you did some mysterious job for Tommy and tonight, you faced the consequences?" she asked Elaine with doubt. It was not much to go by. The other woman nodded.

"And you just stumbled into it when you were looking for her?" she asked Michael. He nodded as well.

"Yeah, I was supposed to fetch her, because we all met up at the Garrison."

"And you ran all the way here?"

They nodded again.

"Well, then it seems Michael saved your ass," Ada grinned at Elaine. She knew the girl hated depending on others and from what the other women were talking, Elaine had been avoiding Michael for some time now. Ada could only speculate about the reasons but was reminded of the beginning of her and Freddie's relationship. Except for the injuries and mysterious crime involvements.

Elaine nodded slowly. "Seems I owe you again, Gray," she quipped. "Didn't know you could fight." There was clearly more to the whole story than they were letting on.

"And I didn't know you couldn't," Michael grinned back. Elaine snorted.

"I thought you were carrying around a knife for things like that," Ada mentioned, worried about her friend. Now, the other woman paused, a look of realisation and regret on her face.

"The knife," she said, "I forgot."

"You had a knife?" Michael stared at her unbelievingly. "You forgot?" he repeated.

"I planned to use it, alright," Elaine defended herself, "but then you appeared out of nowhere and threw me off!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted your brilliant plan. Next time I see a group of men pinning you down, I'll just keep walking."

"You're forgiven."

Ada had never seen a more sarcastic conversation. One that, no doubt, would go on for hours in this obnoxiously sweet tone if she didn't intervene.

"Alright, save that for when I'm not around. What are you going to tell the others?"

Both heads whipped around to face her.

"You're not gonna tell on us?" Michael asked. She looked past it; after all he didn't know her very well yet.

"Of course she's not," Elaine said acidly, "I told you we could trust her."

Ada smiled. "Well, actually I just don't want to be responsible for your violent deaths. Because that's what will happen if Polly finds out her son got into a fight with criminals. Lainy, you know what she said at the meeting."

It didn't even take a full second for Michael to pick up on what she said. "Which meeting," he asked, "about what?"

Elaine groaned, "And I just said I could trust you shutting up. Thanks, Ada." She looked over at Michael. "Polly used the last business meeting to make sure we'd keep you out of the nasty stuff."

"Which worked really well, apparently," deadpanned Ada. Michael clearly didn't see the humour in all that but kept quiet. Ada could see the cogs working behind his eyes. He was seething. "It doesn't matter," she continued, "what's done, is done. Just say some men didn't take no for an answer. It's not that this never happens."

It wasn't a perfect story, but it was one they could agree on. Of course, Elaine would have probably preferred a story that didn't make her look like a helpless damsel in distress. On the other hand, Ada thought, it wasn't too far off from the real story – at least judging from what she had been told. They went on talking about other things: how the boys were doing, Carl's newest achievements and Michael's thoughts on his new life so far. I was interesting, that he seemed to be hesitant when talking about it but had his mouth practically sewn shut when asked about his old life. Ada had heard he even had a different name back in the village. She wondered what she would do in his position. A life away from the Shelbys, even with a different name, was not a foreign thought to her. It was almost a welcomed idea. And yet, Michael had been fortunate enough not to grow up in this hellhole but found himself gravitating towards it with alarming speed. Ada wondered, if this was something running in her blood. No one could escape their Shelby origins.

***

Elaine

The next morning came suddenly and it came with the brightest sunshine Elaine had seen in a while. The perfect light to bring out every colour of the rainbow in their bruises.

"I have to say, your jaw really accentuates your eyes," she quipped as she poured boiling water in a mug. Michael was still in the same spot on the floor he had decided to occupy the previous evening, grumbling at her comment. Ada had convinced them to stay overnight but her tiny flat didn't have a lot of sleeping possibilities. Elaine still preferred a blanket and the floorboards over possible attackers at her flat or Polly's wrath at Michael's. Plus, the carpet had proven to be way more comfortable than it looked.

What she hadn't included in her calculations, however, was the toddler running around the place as soon as the sun sent its first light through the curtains.

Little Carl had been extremely curious about the sleeping guests and was even more delighted when he discovered that they were his non-genetic aunt and actual cousin. Despite the fact that he wasn't well acquainted with Michael, Carl seemed to come to the conclusion that if the guy was sleeping on his mother's floor, he couldn't be too bad. He and Elaine were poked, pulled and giggled at until they were awake, much to Ada's amusement. It was only sweet, sweet karma, Elaine thought, that the little guy put up such a fight as his mom tried to feed him now.

Elaine said down at the table, a coffee in hand and two similar mugs waiting for the others. She peeked over the edge as she took a sip, watching her partner in crime. As it turned out, he wasn't a morning person at all. Or maybe he just wasn't after getting punched in the face the previous day. While Elaine had gotten away with scratched palms and a slightly pounding wrist, Michael had bruised knuckles and a similar jaw. Luckily, his nose wasn't broken but there was a nasty looking scrape under his left eye. Elaine could see he was fighting a headache. Screaming Carl probably didn't help.

"I'm sorry," Ada said exasperatedly, "I don't know what's gotten into him."

"He just wants to put up a show," Elaine assumed and shrugged, "It's not your fault."

Michael had proceeded to roll on his back and stare at the ceiling. The ruffled hair suited him.

"How bad is it?" he asked and she knew he wasn't talking about Carl but his own state. Ada looked over to him but her attention was drawn back when her son catapulted a load of food over the table. "I could try to cover the bruising with some make-up," she suggested, "but you won't be able to hide the cuts."

He sighed and wiped his eyes tiredly. "Thanks, but I guess I'll just go and get it over with."

Elaine downed most of her coffee in one large gulp. Her eyes were still stinging, but at least her brain was awake now. "Let me know how that went. I'll go and report back to Tommy."

Michael lifted his head to look at her questioningly and even Ada's eyes broke away from her child for another second.

"Don't worry, I'll stick to our story and leave you two out of the rest," she assured and stood up. After stretching briefly she went over to Ada and hugged her tightly. "I don't think we've thanked you enough. You saved our lives." Ada just grinned and returned the hug.

"I hope you're not planning on hugging me next," Michael commented, still on the floor.

"Don't be absurd, Gray," she deadpanned and left the apartment.

The way to the betting shop was longer than she had anticipated. The whole time, she was looking around her, sticking to crowds and clutching the knife in her pocket. She wouldn't forget about it again. However, her journey stayed uneventful. The doors were still closed and she had to knock. Elaine thought she deserved a key to the place she was working for but Tommy clearly didn't deem that necessary.

"We're not open yet," called Esme's annoyed voice from the inside.

"It's me," Elaine shouted back, glancing around for good measure.

She could hear soft steps and then the door was pulled open. Esme was always the first one in the office, apart from the boss himself. Elaine brushed passed her with a curt greeting, ignoring Esme's curious stares at her sorry state .

"Is Tommy in?" she asked, already heading for the office.

"You know it," was Esme's answer.

She knocked twice but didn't wait for a response before opening the door. Tommy stood at the window, staring outside. She wondered if this was part of his job, while she got ambushed in the streets. Then again, she didn't need half of the problems he probably had to think about. Time to add one more to the list.

"We need to talk," Elaine announced after closing the door behind her. Tommy didn't turn around.

"Evidently," he said and waited for her to go on.

"I did what you asked me to do."

"I know."

Of course he did. Elaine hadn't spoken to him since before the job but there was nothing in this town Thomas Shelby didn't notice. She should know, being one of his sources.

"Then you also know that they sent people to watch us."

"And they will leave again when they don't see anything interesting."

"See, and that's where you're wrong."

Now, she had his attention. Tommy turned around to look at her and began scanning her appearance. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes, now crumpled from a night on Ada's carpet. Her hair was probably still messy and she didn't try to hide the bandaged wrist or cuts. He didn't flinch but it took him a moment to decide on his next words.

"What happened?"

Elaine looked past him and out of the window he was still standing in front of. The light seeping in tinted the wood in the room in a slightly red colour. It was like a warning to be careful what she said next.

"I was attacked, yesterday, on my way to the Garrison. They had been around for days now, but never did anything. I guess they are growing impatient."

Tommy stayed silent.

"You said they would leave," she continued accusingly, "You said the owners weren't about the criminal life. That they wouldn't know what to do." She raised her injured wrist. "The five men yesterday seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Speaking of, why does a harmless family have men like that in the first place?"

Tommy went over to the sideboard slowly and grabbed two glasses. Elaine knew he was still listening, but she had nothing more to say. While he poured them both a drink, he began talking.

"It seems we underestimated them," he started and Elaine tried not to roll her eyes at the inclusive 'we'. "Or maybe we underestimated the value of the statue."

"What is it about this thing anyway?" Elaine asked, because to her it just seemed like a waste of space. Tommy nodded and passed her a glass. She didn't need to try it to know it was whiskey. Normally, she refused alcohol at work but her wrist had started hurting again and she could need a drink.

"Until now, I thought it only had emotional value but it seems there is more about it."

"Why? It would explain the great effort they are putting in to find it."

"Oh, I didn't say it was of emotional value to the family."

As always, Tommy spoke in riddles. And the look on his face told her he wouldn't explain himself anytime soon. It was infuriating, truly, but Elaine had learned to accept his secrecy as a part of him. Not asking to many questions was a reason she got the job in the first place. She sighed.

"Just fix this, " she demanded and couldn't hide the edge in her voice. Of course, it was rather inappropriate to talk to her boss like that but they knew each other long enough and Tommy looked past it. Most of the time. She took a sip of the drink and felt the liquid burning in her throat.

"The statue is safe?" Of course that was where is interests were. Elaine nodded, still fighting with her beverage. "Where?"

She almost choked. "Somewhere safe, I told you. Trust me."

He didn't answer anything, didn't inquire, didn't promise anything but she knew he would do something about the attackers. His piercing eyes drilled holes in her body.

"What is it," she asked. It was unnerving and the guilt was weighting down on her. It wasn't easy to keep things from Thomas Shelby. But she had always liked challenges.

"Where were you after you got attacked yesterday? We missed you at the Garrison."

Elaine practically felt the atmosphere shift. Now she was the one being interrogated, although she was not sure what for. How much did he know?

"Sorry, didn't really feel like partying after that," she bit back. Clouds covered the sun outside and suddenly, the office was dark and quiet. Elaine felt a bit claustrophobic. Tommy stared at her. She hadn't answered his question and he had noticed.

"We sent Michael to look for you," he stated, as if just informing her. She didn't buy it.

"Yeah, he ... walked into the situation, basically." Tommy raised an eyebrow – an ability she always wished she possessed. He leant back against his desk, clearly waiting for more information. There was not really much she could say but Tommy already knew too much about the situation to buy the story Michael, Ada and her had agreed on. "He thinks they were just harassing me," she lied, "caught a few punches but got me out of there. I would prefer, if we'd keep it at that."

If she didn't know better she'd think there was a smile playing around his lips. Her whiskey must have been stronger than she thought.

"You're quite secretive today," he remarked dryly.

"Why wouldn't I give you some of your own medicine?" Elaine quipped.

"Because I am the one paying you."

"And I am the one making sure you earn the money you pay me."

There it was again, that almost-smile. Tommy must be in a good mood today, Elaine thought. Why this quite unfortunate chain of events lightened his mood, she didn't know.

"Well, then it's fortunate for both of us that I have more for you to do, " he said.

***

Ada

Ever since Elaine and Michael had appeared at her doorstep, Ada hated coming home to her little flat. She had tried to hide it, but not being able to offer them a better alternative than the carpet to sleep on was a shameful dagger in the body of her dreamed life. She had seen Elaine's imploring glance around the room. She had seen Michael's surprised expression at the contrast between the glorious gangster life and her harsh reality in there. Freddie and her had dreamt of far-away places, about wealth in a world of equality and fairness. There was nothing fair about any of this.

But there was a solution. Or more like a chance of a solution and Ada had found herself at the end of her possibilities for so long. Now Carl was with Esme and the other children and she was on her way to the faithful pub. The remains of Tommy's money – the part she didn't spent on alcohol, food and clothes for Carl – were still in her pocket.

The scenery hadn't changed at all. The same drawn out faces of men, the same noises as last time and of every pub she ever went to. Ada couldn't help but scan the room for the familiar face, but as he had suspected when meeting the mysterious man: it was a face you easily forgot. She ordered a drink and sat down in the same spot like last time, praying that the man would keep his promise and find her.

She waited for twenty minutes until she felt someone sitting down next to her.

"Are the drinks in here that good or did you change your mind?" the man asked lowly.

Ada exhaled softly, silently questioning her own decisions. Without another word she took the money out of her pocket and slit it over the table. She heard him chuckling. For a moment she feared he wasn't going to take it, but then a dirty hand appeared from the depth of his worn down jacket and pulled the bills from the polished wood.

"I knew you were smart," he said good-naturedly and shot her a genuine smile. "No one deserves a life alone." He rummaged through his pockets, the chair creaking dangerously under him. Then, finally, he found the little bottle and searched a bit more until he retreated a folded piece of paper as well. He set both on the table. Ada nodded, but his kind words were too much for her. She wanted to leave.

"Thank you," she murmured and snatched the items. She left her drink on the table, still half full, and left.

She hated the fact that the way to her sporadic apartment began to come more naturally to her than the way to her actual home. Deep in her thoughts she had to correct her steps multiple times until she reached her destination.

Ada didn't allow herself to hesitate. She chucked her purse in a corner of a room, tied her scarf around her lower face and unfolded the paper she had been given. On her way here she had already seen that it contained instructions. With shaky fingers, she measured the right amount of liquid and finally stood in front of the bed, a little cup in hand.

For the first time, she looked at Freddie. His skin was still showing a blue tint and there was dried blood under his nose. His chest was rising and falling shallowly and his eyes were shifting under closed lids. There was sweat on his forehead and his muscles were flexing occasionally. There was no way he could defeat the disease on his own. The medicine was the only chance they had.

The distance she was keeping now was the safe zone she had drawn for herself. She needed to cross the line all the way in order to make him drink. The thought of coming so close to him repulsed her, scared her, and Ada was positive she had never hated herself more than in this very moment. She turned around, grabbing a towel she had left behind for his care and returned to the bed. She took a deep breath and then held it. Quickly, she kneeled down beside the bed and opened his mouth. The towel kept her hands from making direct contact with his skin. She chugged the contents of the cup in his mouth and retreated quickly. Ada almost fell over her own feet in the process.

Freddie choked shortly as the medicine ran down his throat. It was the first sign of life he had shown for far too long.

Did it work?

He calmed down again, eyes still closed, body unmoving. The clock on the wall was ticking loudly. Ada stared at him, not daring to blink. Nothing happened. It took Ada a couple of minutes until she noticed a difference. The previous movements humming under his skin were gone. His eyes weren't moving from side to side anymore and he laid completely still. Swallowing down a sob she tumbled over to his side, checking if she was mistaken. She clutched her hands to her mouth as she watched his weak but steady breathing. Ada was not stupid enough to forget that he was still contagious, and so she refrained from hugging him once again. She couldn't even speak. But she had to tell the others.

It had worked.


	7. Chapter 7

Ada

Ada was holding back happy tears as she ran down the street as fast as her feet would take her. The scarf she had wound around her face slipped down to her neck and was waving after her like a veil. She cursed herself for wearing heels. The cobblestone nearly broke her ankles. And then she saw Polly's house. Her aunt had been the first person Ada thought of when wanting to tell the great news. But now that thought was temporarily blown out of her mind as she kept her gaze on the door. Her steps slowed and eventually halted altogether. Her smile slipped from her face.

The first thing she saw were the feathers. In a strange way it looked as if it had snowed on the few steps leading up to Polly's house. A miniature winter on her doorstep. But then Ada's eyes caught the knife. It was sharp and shiny, but simple in its form. And its tip was buried deeply in the neck of a dove, effectively pinning it to the door. A trail of bright red lead from its mutilated body to the floor. It took Ada a moment to comprehend that blood was running down from the corpse. It was all so very wrong.

Other than that, nothing seemed out of place. The door was locked, the windows closed but there was light in the living room. Ada stumbled closer, pressing her nose against the glass. She almost laughed from relief when she made out Polly and Elaine, talking innocently. She knocked against the window sharply, earning their attention and pointing in the direction of the entrance. There was no way she would touch the door.

With a hammering heart she waited for Polly to open and jerked slightly at her shocked yell and intake of breath.

"I-I just, I found it here when I arrived," Ada stuttered. Polly took in the feathers at her feet and the poor dove. Elaine joined after probably hearing the commotion. She was pale, but there was a weird kind of certainty in her eyes.

"I know it wasn't you, Ada. Are you alright? Did something happen?" Polly sounded almost scared, which was an unnerving sign in itself. Ada took a moment to remember why she was there.

"Oh, yes!" Despite everything, her smile returned. "Freddie is recovering!"

***

Michael

He had been on his way home when Finn ran up to him, saying Tommy wanted to see him. It was the first time this happened, normally Michael was the one demanding to talk to his cousin and wouldn't budge until he complied. But contrary to his expectations, Michael wasn't happy at all about it. It was as if someone had hidden an icicle in his body, cold and sharp. There was nothing to talk about. Or, well, more like the things worthy talking about were things Tommy shouldn't know.

Michael decided that worrying wouldn't solve any of his problems and made his way to the betting shop.

He usually didn't pay much attention to furnishing details, but he was sure the deep notch in the door hadn't been there before. It was directly on eye level, surrounded by red-tinted wood. Someone had tried to wash it away but didn't really succeed. Now, the dark brown was blotchy and swollen, merging into the red.

With furrowed brows, Michael entered. The betting shop was empty - a rare sight. The icicle in his stomach grew.

"Come in," the deep baritone of Thomas Shelby echoed through the room. Michael couldn't help but notice that his cousin didn't have to shout to make his voice sound louder. The authority he was radiating was enough to make everyone within hearing distance listen. He looked up to see him leaning in the doorway to his office: suit unblemished, orderly hair, unreadable expression. Tommy pushed himself off the frame and stepped into the main hall of the betting shop. He buried his hands in his pockets and if it hadn't been for the tension in his shoulders Michael would have thought he was strolling.

"You wanted to talk to me," Michael stated and his voice sounded more uncertain than he would have liked. Tommy nodded and continued his little walk towards the huge blackboard covered in numbers. Michael stared at his back, waiting for whatever it was Tommy wanted to say.

"Do you regret joining the family?" Tommy asked. Michael was taken aback. Everyone always asked him if he liked the life here, if he was happy or if this is what he imagined when leaving the village. But no one ever asked him if he regretted his choice. He didn't need to think twice. "No."

"I heard you got into a little scuffle the other day." Tommy had proceeded to let his eyes sail over the numbers. For some reason, Michael assumed he knew every digit by heart anyway and was just playing a show.

"It was nothing," Michael answered. Since the morning at Ada's, the bruises on his face and hands had reached particularly bright shades of blue and green. He knew Tommy had seen them and he knew they didn't look like nothing. On the other hand, in the Shelby world the definition of a serious fight probably involved a lot more blood and possibly missing organs. Maybe it really was nothing.

"Have you noticed the door?" was Tommy's next question. While Michael was glad he didn't ask further about the fight, he wondered what caused that sudden change of topic. Where was Tommy going?

"You mean the mark?"

"From a knife, yes. When one of the boys arrived, they found a white dove pinned to the door. We were all inside here and yet neither we, nor anyone out there has seen or heard anything." He paused shortly, turning away from the blackboard so that he could face Michael. Ah, there was the icicle again, Michael thought. Tommy's inquisitive stare tended to have this effect. Michael kept quiet.

"Before you just arrived here, Arthur and John showed up, reporting white doves on the doors of their homes as well," he went on, studying Michael, "And I have no doubt that when I go home today I will find the same thing at my own." There was no compassion, no fear, no regret in Thomas' voice. He might as well be talking about his suit or the weather. Michael found the thought of dead animals pinned to their doors quite disturbing but forced himself to a straight face. He could handle things like that and Tommy needed to see that. Nevertheless, his mind wandered to his mother and their own home. Did she find a bird as well? What about Elaine? Whoever did such a thing knew where they all lived. No doubt this was the message the artist wanted to get through.

"Why are you telling me this?" Michael asked finally.

"Maybe I want to scare you away from the business."

"It's not working."

"No," Tommy agreed, his face stern, "it doesn't."

There was a short pause as Tommy, still with his hands in his pockets, sauntered over to the window. "Well," he started again, "at least I can tell Polly I've tried."

Michael was aggravated immediately.

"Is this what you called me for," he wanted to know. And here he was, thinking Tommy had discovered his involvement in their doings, but instead it was just the same old story all over again. "Because my mother asked you to talk me out of this?"

"Polly didn't ask me to do anything," Tommy ensured. His tone had shifted slightly and lost something of its businessman drawl. He was still an eternity away from a nice chat between cousins. Michael clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Don't lie to me," he said quietly but he was sure Tommy heard him just fine.

With a sigh, Tommy went over to one of the tables, drew out a chair and sat down. He crossed his legs and folded his hands on his lap. "Alright," he said in mocking light-heartedness and pointed at the chair opposite from him, "Let's tell some truths."

Michael couldn't help but think this was a trap. He could practically hear Polly's voice complaining about how Thomas never called things by their name until held at gunpoint. But this right now was what Michael had hoped for since he first set foot into the betting shop. He sat down. Tommy raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something.

"I want to take part in the business," he started, "Stop treating me like a kid."

Tommy looked down on the table top, wiping invisible dust away. He nodded slightly.

"The reason I called you in, Michael," he said, "is because things are beginning to get messy. I want to offer you one last chance." He looked back up to Michael. "If Polly knows about the recent development, we haven't talked about it yet. So consider this a favour entirely from myself."

Michael supressed the urge to roll his eyes. They had had this discussion multiple times already.

"I want you to understand how severe this is," Tommy continued, his eyes brushing over Michael's furrowed brows. Michael shifted in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. Tommy ignored it. "Dead animals will be the least of our problems. From here on, it gets worse, and worse and worse. I don't know how far these people are willing to go, but I am hundred percent certain that this is your last chance to back out." His hand vanished in his coat pocked once again, retreating multiple rolls of money. He set them on the table firmly, right in front of Michael.

"Take the train this evening, tell your mother in the village you're sorry and never look back. This is my advice."

Michael stared at the money like it was a giant cockroach.

"Polly is my mother," he said. If Tommy thought he would just take the money and run, he didn't know him at all. As if his cousin read his thoughts, he spoke again.

"I know you are clever. I know you noticed that the men coming after Elaine the other day were not there for fun."

Michael head snapped up. Tommy noticed, evidently, but didn't comment on it. Michael didn't need to confirm the suspicions. He didn't want to talk about this at all. Did Tommy also know about the statue? Did he know Michael was the one hiding it? No, thought Michael, he would have said something.

"Did someone ever did this for you?" he asked finally, looking pointedly to the money, "gave you the option?" They stared at each other for a couple seconds.

"No," Tommy answered.

"If someone had, would you have ran?" This time Tommy seemed to contemplate his words. But Michael knew the answer before he spoke.

"No," Tommy said, voice neutral but completely certain, "I wouldn't have."

They both knew Michael wouldn't leave. They had known from the start.

***

Elaine

They agreed that worrying about the dead bird nailed to Polly's front door wouldn't do them any good for the moment. Instead, they made their way to Ada and Freddie's home. The whole way, Ada kept talking in one single blur. Something about medicine, a pub and, of course, a cure. 

Elaine couldn't follow properly and decided to piece the situation together once they arrived. At the doorstep, they all covered their mouths and noses with some kind of fabric. Despite Ada's happy news, Elaine didn't feel comfortable coming so close to a highly contagious man. From the look on her face, Polly seemed to have similar thoughts. They kept quiet, overwhelmed by curiosity.

There was a purse discarded in the corner and an old towel and an empty cup on the floor directly next to the bed. The curtains were almost closed and the furniture covered in a thin layer of dust. To Elaine, it looked like the flat had been suddenly abandoned a couple years ago and the inhabitant had never come back. Ada's smile was the only thing lightening the room.

They watched as Polly walked towards one end of the room slowly; towards the bed containing the motionless figure of Freddie Thorne.

"After I gave him the medicine, he calmed down immediately," Ada reported, excitedly. "He has been tossing and turning but he doesn't seem to have any pain now!"

Elaine watched as Polly approached further warily. From behind her, she couldn't see her face but saw Ada's expression falter briefly.

"Ada..." Polly began but didn't seem to know how to continue. The silence hung heavy.

"What?" Ada asked, her voice weak and fragile.

Polly crouched down, taking a closer look at Freddie, then turned around to face them. She was pale, tired and most of all, horrified.

"Ada," she repeated again, "he isn't breathing."

It took the doctor and hours of convincing until Ada began accepting the fact that Freddie was dead.

Although, acceptance wasn't exactly the word that came to mind as Elaine looked at the trebling, dissolved girl that was one of her best friends since childhood. She had retold the story for a thousand times, told them about the stranger in the pub, the offer and what she had done. Elaine didn't know what to think. It seemed that her mind was so full of contradicting ideas and opinions, that she wasn't able to pick one. None of them seemed appropriate enough to actually voice them, and so Elaine just said down next to Ada, hugging her friend while a couple of Blinders carried out the body.

Over Ada's head, Elaine made eye contact with Polly. The older woman had stood by the window, watching everything in hollow detachment. Now, she was meeting her eyes with a sense of clarity. Polly was a smart woman. It was obvious someone targeted Freddie and the pressing question was why. He was a known bolshevist and made enough enemies for a life time making speeches.

But there, in Polly's eyes, Elaine saw her own thoughts reflected: there were too many unfortunate events happening around them, most recently the dead bird on the door. This was no coincidence. This was the first victim of a beginning war.

***

Michael

After the conversation with Tommy, Michael had come home to an empty house. Polly told him this morning she would be there all day, but now she was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if it had something to do with the bloody bundle of feathers he was facing now. He had expected the dove at the door but the actual sight had been unnerving nonetheless. There wasn't much he could do, except getting rid of his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves and cleaning the mess. He pulled the knife out, threw the bird in the trash and went inside to fetch a bucket of water. Michael had managed to get rid of most of the blood and feathers when John showed up.

"Bloody hell," he sighed. "I'd hoped they spared you guys."

Michael put the cloth down and turned around.

"So Tommy was right. You and Arthur too," he said.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Luckily, the kids didn't see much of it. This is really fucked up."

Michael wiped his hands on his trousers, smearing blood and water at the fabric. It must have been an odd sight but there was no one around anyway. The whole of Small Heath stayed home at times like this. Still, he could see the neighbours peeking through the curtains at any given chance. The people weren't stupid, but certainly curious.

His gaze went back to his cousin. Until now, Michael hadn't noticed how nervous John was. But he was shifting his weight constantly and was wringing his hands.

"Wanna come inside?" Michael offered, "Polly isn't here, if you were looking for her."

"Yeah, I know," John said, "She is still with Ada, I guess after –" He must have seen the confused look on Michaels face, because he stopped mid-sentence and lowered his eyes to the floor uncomfortably. "So, you haven't heard. Alright. Listen, we can't talk out here, but I need to get back to Esme. I just wanted to check on everyone, see if everyone's okay. Polly won't be back until tomorrow. How about you come with me?"

The offer surprised Michael. It was different from the invites to the Garrison or the talks at the betting shop. He liked John and being part of the family was something Michael deeply wished for. However, there was something very personal about this situation now and he could feel John's worry.

"Oh, I don't want to cause you any effort," he said with a polite smile. John mirrored his expression, although his face was affectionate and a bit shy.

"Oh, you're not," he assured, glancing up to him from below his cap, "And I really think this is not a good time for any of us to be alone. Not tonight."

It was something in his voice. Michael couldn't put a finger on it but whatever it was, it got to him. Maybe Tommy's words earlier and the dull scrubbing of his bloody door had worn him out, maybe he was tired. Maybe he wanted to know what the fuck was going on. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah," Michael said, "alright."

He had never seen John and Esme's home from the inside. It was obvious a lot of people lived in here. The floor was worn down in the hallway. Most objects were out of reach for tiny children, put on shelves and in lockable drawers. John had entered before him and flung his coat on an ever growing pile of clothes that must have been a hallstand at one point. After some deliberation, Michael just threw his coat on there as well. To his right, in the living room, there were two couches and three armchairs strewn around a little table, which gave everything a slightly claustrophobic feel. When they arrived, Esme was busy putting the children to bed – the fact that they had a visitor didn't really do much to calm the lot of them down but she managed to manoeuvre them into their beds in a way that was both deeply impressive and frightening to Michael. He thought about the morning at Ada's, where Carl had danced around them at dawn and had thrown food around like a little tornado. He tried to multiply the outcome by six. How was the house still standing?

While she was busy, John and Michael sat down on the armchairs.

"You mentioned something about Ada," Michael said, not wanting to beat around the bush now that the children were out of hearing distance. John shifted in his seat.

"Yeah," he began, "her husband died today. That's why Polly is staying with her. He was a friend of the family."

"I'm... sorry to hear that." Michael didn't quite know what to say. He was not really good at expressing his condolences. Actually, he wasn't good at dealing with other people's sorrow in general. He truly felt sorry for Ada, but didn't know the husband at all. He felt bad for being so detached from what happened.

"He had been sick for a long time," Esme's voice called from behind him. She emerged from the bedrooms, joining them. "There was no cure."

Michael just nodded. He also noticed the glances of John at his wife, as if he wanted to say something but didn't dare. He fidgeted in his seat for a moment, eyes shifting between Michael and Esme. John was caught in between two sides. But he had to decide eventually.

"Esme..." he said, hesitantly at first. Under other circumstances, Michael would have felt eternally thankful to John. Under other circumstances he would have been surprised about him standing up to his wife in front of other people. Now, however, Michael's urge to know what they were keeping from him overshadowed everything else.

"No, John, we all knew he was dying. It's a tragedy, it's devastating, but the disease took him eventually," Esme shot back a bit too quickly.

"That quite clearly isn't what happened," Michael threw in. He kept his face straight and his voice calm, despite his anger trying to crawl out of his throat. He was a guest in this house and didn't really want to be kicked out. And Esme was too stubborn to be backing away when being shouted at. She didn't answer.

"There were birds nailed to our doors," John reminded her vehemently. "On his door as well. He's already in this. He has a right to know."

Esme looked like she was about to explode any minute.

"Wasn't it enough that he got into a fight with these men because of Tommy's bloody job?" she shouted suddenly, "Wasn't that enough of a warning?"

Michael's stomach dropped at her words.

"How do you know it was because of a job?" he almost whispered. It was impossible. Their plan hadn't been perfect, but it had been a good one. Good enough that Michael had believed in it

"Ada told me," Esme admitted, calmly. Guilt and defence battled in her eyes. She knew, she wasn't supposed to know. Michael groaned and cursed lowly. He looked at John.

"Did you know as well?"

John nodded slightly.

"Yeah," he said, "Esme told me."

Michael forced himself to take a deep breath. He began to wonder how much everyone knew exactly. If they knew the truth about the attack, how long would it be until they found out about their arrangements with the stolen statue? If anyone found out he was keeping it, there would be hell to pay.

"Who else knows this?" he asked finally. "Arthur?"

John shook his head.

"Polly?"

He shook his head again, more fiercely this time. "We didn't tell anyone," John assured.

It seemed like his voice was miles away. Blood was rushing through Michael's ears. The last weeks passed behind his eyes:

Elaine had promised to take him along to the job. But she didn't.

She had said there were no consequences to the job, once he hid the statue. But there were. Ada had promised she wouldn't tell. But she did.

So now, as John promised that no one else knew, Michael found himself not believing a single word.

"John is right," he tried, his voice suddenly hoarse, "I'm in this just as much as you are. If you want to keep me safe, you need to stop hiding things from me. I can handle it."

Esme didn't answer, but there was a spark of uncertainty in her eyes. She looked away.

"I think someone should tell that to Tommy, "John said, with a smile, "because even if we wanted to tell you, we don't know all that much either."

"Yeah," Michael said, "I wonder what else he is keeping from us."


	8. Chapter 8

Elaine

"We can't show weakness, not now," Tommy spoke with finality. They had been discussing how to go on from now for hours, but everyone was bringing different ideas to the table. The family was dividing into two groups: the ones who wanted to back out and the ones who wanted to attack before they could take another blow. And it seemed as if Tommy belonged to the latter.

"We don't even know what we're fighting against, Thomas!" Polly complained.

"So what?" Elaine jumped in, "We just have to find out then." She pushed a stack of papers over to Tommy. They were sitting around one of the large tables in the betting shop, he obviously at the head, flanked by John and Arthur. They put their heads together to look at what she had to show them.

"Before the job, I collected information about the family. Mainly about their living situation, map of the house, these things."

"And?" Tommy asked.

"And they seemed ordinary, just as you said. They weren't supposed to have that many men, ready to smash some faces in."

"Alright, but that's exactly what they have," Arthur stated, still browsing the papers. Tommy lent back in his chair, looking at her directly.

"So what do you suggest? That it's not them?" Elaine was glad he was catching on so quickly.

"Maybe," she answered, "but that would be quite the coincidence. Maybe they have powerful friends. They found us a bit too quickly and they had way too much information about us. Where we live, what we do, the thing about Freddie..."

"Assuming Freddie was their doing," Polly objected. Now that Ada wasn't with them and some days had passed, they were able to discuss the issue properly. There was still an incredible bitterness in everyone's features whenever someone mentioned Freddie Thorne. However, the ability to accept the situation as it was and move on was what had kept this family alive for so long.

John pushed the toothpick from one side of his lips to the other,

"It was the same day those bloody birds appeared everywhere," he spat, "Of course it's them."

Apart from them, the shop was empty. They couldn't afford closing for long but the Shelby's had agreed on the fact that they needed a meeting as soon as possible. Of course, it was as tense as ever. Tommy knew this as well and seemed to be determined to keep this efficient. "For now," he interjected, "we will assume that Freddie was killed by the same men who nailed the doves to our houses. And we will also assume that this wasn't the last we heard of them."

Polly leant forward in her chair, smacking a palm on the table in Tommy's direction. "What do they even want from us?" she hissed. "What was this mysterious job?" She turned her head to look back to Elaine, who was sitting right next to her. Elaine had never wished to be somewhere else more than now, but the sitting arrangements were made according to everyone's role in the business.

Although Polly had never said so directly, Elaine knew she was blaming her for a lot of things that had happened. For all that Polly knew, the mysterious job Elaine had done was putting the whole family into danger now. Plus, it was her fault Michael got into a fight, even if Polly thought it had been about simple harassment.

Luckily, there was someone at the table, who had drawn an even shorter straw than Elaine: If Tommy hadn't given her the job, Elaine wouldn't have done it in the first place. He was the one with the biggest target on his forehead and Polly's aim was eminent.

Tommy sighed. He was used to the role she was forcing on him. Maybe, Elaine thought, it was the one he wanted to play after all.

"Elaine took something from that family," he explained shortly, already bracing for the reactions. He didn't need to wait long.

"You sent her stealing from some family with gangster friends?" Esme exclaimed from the other end of the table, next to John.

Despite the fact that this was exactly what had happened, it made the whole deal sound like a mistake, like an inconsiderate idea. Nothing Tommy would ever admit on. Thomas Shelby didn't make mistakes. He didn't even grace her with an answer.

"Well, the gangster friends are only one idea," Arthur said, trying to get the discussion back to the important part, "We don't know yet."

"We need to find out," John agreed, "just as Lainy said."

She observed as Tommy wiped his thumb over his lips, deep in thought for a moment. He was calm and collected and didn't seem nervous in the slightest. Finally, he nodded.

"Arthur," he began, "you ask around if anyone recognized some of the men or anything we don't know yet." The oldest brother nodded curtly. "Take some boys with you. Some people might not want to talk. John, you get Elaine's contacts from around that family she stole from. Take a look at them and keep your ears open in the area." John agreed as well. "Be back by the time we head to the auction." Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Polly caught herself first.

"The auction," she repeated, "You still want to buy a stupid horse? Now?"

Elaine could see that it took most of them a moment to remember that during their last family meeting, Tommy had indeed announced they would buy a race horse. This seemed to be centuries ago. But Elaine had waited for this topic.

"About that," she said, slowly, "I wanted to ask something."

"Yeah, for example why the fuck we still need to go there when we have bigger problems right now." Polly was seething. Her mood wouldn't improve at what Elaine had to say.

"Actually, I wanted to suggest to bring Michael with you, Tommy." She knew what the others would say, so she went on immediately, "I know that you won't change your mind about going there anyway, and I agree. We should continue the business regardless of what happened. Plus," she looked over to Polly, "it isn't much of a risk. The Blinders want to legally buy a horse at a legal event. With security and snobby, filthy rich people all around. In fact, it will be safer there than it will ever be in Small Heath." Her little speech was met with apprehension.

"No," Polly declared, without even thinking about it. Elaine knew she wouldn't change her mind, so she looked over at the others. She basically burned a hole in John's head with her stare. He fidgeted and squirmed under it but finally gave up.

"She kind of has a point, Pol," he murmured, defeated. "You can't make him part of the family but not of the family business."

"I can, and I fucking will!" she shouted.

"And," Elaine started but wasn't looking at the older woman, "Charlie said he's good with horses. Natural talent, he said."

"Charlie is coming with us himself," Tommy objected, but the fact that he was bringing arguments was generally a sign of interest with him.

"Charlie's a good man but you want to buy a race horse, not a house pet. Charlie's heart is soft. You could use a second opinion."

Everyone was looking at Tommy. And he took his time.

"I'll talk to him-"

"Thomas!" Polly interrupted but didn't dare say anything else as he shot her an icy glance.

"I'll talk to him," Tommy repeated firmly, "and decide then. If I agree with you and Polly allows it, he will come along."

Elaine nodded and sat back. She knew it was the most she could get.

"Alright," Tommy concluded, "so we have a plan. You all can leave. Elaine, a minute."

It took some time until everyone was out the door. She heard John's voice fading in the distance. He had been talking to Polly on the way out and Elaine hoped he was trying to convince her about the auction. Tommy was still sitting at the head of the table and she hadn't moved either. So now, there were three empty chairs between them, creating an odd distance.

"What?" was all she asked.

Tommy reached into his pocket, pulling out cigarettes and a lighter. He offered her one first. You could say a lot about Thomas Shelby, but he had manners. If he wanted to.

Elaine took one and lighted it herself while he did the same. Now that the room was basically empty, most of the tension was gone as well.

"Why did you stand up for Michael?" he asked finally, after a few drags. Elaine shrugged.

"I meant what I said. I think it's a good idea."

Tommy watched the ashtray on the table intently and unblinking.

"See, my guess was that you don't like owing him," he spoke. She grinned slightly, impressed with his sharp wit.

"If you have the answer already, why ask?"

"I don't know," he said and raised his eyes up to hers, "maybe there is another reason."

The smoke was dancing through the air. The nicotine calmed her down and Tommy had always been a rather tranquil person. Elaine didn't feel like playing games today.

"I do think it's a good idea and don't like owing him. But I owe him more than this. He's capable, Tommy," she said, "He's clever and he's determined. We need someone like him and he's willing to join. The only problem here is everyone treating him like a kid." She exhaled slowly and tapped the ash off her cigarette. "Tommy, you are the head of this family, the head of the Blinders, because you are smart and you know how to deal with the shit that's coming our way. Your business sense must tell you the same thing."

He smiled dryly, as if she was a little puppy that just did a trick for the first time. Like this was fucking adorable.

"You're shooting an awful lot of wisdom my way these days," he observed and Elaine didn't quite know if he was joking or not. "You've grown up, eh?"

"Yes. And I've been part of this business for some time now. You let me be part of it, despite my age. What's different?" she said.

"You're one of us," he answered, "It just happened."

"He is Polly's son," she stated fiercely, "He's one of us too. You can only play the trust card for so long."

Tommy inhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair and toying with his lighter.

"I'll talk to him," he promised eventually. A sudden surge of energy went through him, as he shifted a bit and leaned toward her suddenly. "We have to get rid of the statue as soon as possible," he changed the subject, "That's why you're going to London at the day of the auction."

"Who is it I'll be meeting?" Elaine asked and couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice. London was foreign lands and Tommy must have a reason to change this now.

"There is a gang of jews, fighting for dominance up there. You won't be able to talk to their boss, but I've sent a letter to peak enough interest for them to send some men. I've just gotten some information about them, including the fact that Solomons has a young man working as a sort of right hand. That boy is the one you need to meet, he is the closest thing to the boss himself you'll get. If he isn't among the men, let them bring you to him."

"Do I even want to know what you are getting us into?" Elaine wasn't feeling quite well at the prospect at meeting a powerful London gang. She had heard of Solomons, but in this moment she would have preferred being oblivious to their reputation. After the whole ordeal with Kimber, they were one of the few gangs above the Blinders. She supposed it had been a matter of time until Tommy wanted to come for them. "Why are you sending me? You could have made this open discussion earlier."

Now that she thought about it, it was an utterly questionable decision to send her, with all the grim looking, strong Peaky boys around. She couldn't even fight, Elaine thought and rubbed her wrist consciously.

"I would prefer if the details of this whole deal would stay among as few people as possible," Tommy stated, "You already know about it, you know what this is about. And I send you there to make peace, not to intimidate them."

"Right, because it's not like these are the same things with you," Elaine quipped sarcastically.

"You are diplomatic, I trust you with this."

"You mean I am the only one you trust that you don't need at the auction."

Tommy didn't say anything, which was enough of an answer for Elaine.

"What will we talk about?" she asked.

"The lion statue you stole should be of great value to the jews. It belonged to them until someone took it a couple years ago. We are offering peace in hopes of future collaboration."

"Collaboration?" Elaine repeated surprised, "You want to work with another gang? Together?"

Tommy puffed out smoke, chuckling. "For now. We need allies up there and they might help us with our current problem as well."

Despite the grim prospect of making a deal with one of the most dangerous men in the country, Elaine was glad Tommy had a plan.

"Well then," she said, "I hope you know what you're doing."

***

Ada

Aunt Polly had been banging on the door for what felt like hours. Or maybe days. Ada didn't know anymore and frankly stopped caring. Maybe Pol would give up eventually. Then again, she was a Shelby. But so was Ada.

"This is ridiculous, Ada!" her aunts voice cut through the door, "I know it's hard. It is for all of us!"

Ada suppressed a dry laugh and focused on Carl. He was what she had left of Freddie. It hurt her to know he wasn't growing up for his father to see. Before Freddie and her married, she often wondered what their life would be like. Ada had dreamt of a garden and children to play in it. She imagined the winters – snow covering the lawn and hugging every tree and bush. And Freddie would be there, building a snowman with their children. Ada would watch them through the window, already putting the kettle on the fire, because she'd know they would be half frozen by the time they came in. And she would smile to herself because they always forgot the time when they were playing around.

It had been a fantasy, but one she had allowed herself to hope for. After all, Freddie had agreed on running away with her; on getting away from it all. And now she had to face that the mere life of her husband was a wish, a fantasy, she had been denied.

Carl squirmed a little bit under her touch, intend to focus on the toy horse he was playing with. He was too young to understand what was going on, but Ada was sure if he could talk already, he would ask where his dad was. Maybe it was good that she didn't have to explain for now.

"Ada, please! Don't do this again!" Polly begged.

She was referring to the time Freddie had been arrested right after his son was born. Ada remembered being determined to never speak to her family again, but time showed that it hadn't lasted very long. Granted, it hadn't exactly been Tommy's fault and he got Freddie out of it. Which made her wonder what the situation was now.

Her brother might not be responsible now either, but he hadn't been able to save her husband this time. After all, there were some things even Tommy didn't have power over. In an odd way, this was a very reassuring thought.

Ada sighed and slowly turned the key of the door. The clicking of the lock was met by unsure silence. Polly didn't know what to do, Ada figured. She helped her out and opened the door for her.

"What is it," Ada asked, but her voice didn't hold any emotion. It was different this time, she didn't really feel anger. She didn't really feel anything.

"I made you and Carl some food." She pointed out of the door and to her own kitchen table. Ada could smell the food, the scent had been wafting through the gap under the door.

"Thank you," she said finally. "And thanks for letting us stay here." She couldn't really blame Polly for anything, not when her aunt was giving them so much.

"There is no need to thank me, love," she said. "We're all there for you."

Ada just nodded and looked back to her playing son. Polly followed her gaze and both were lost in their own thoughts for a moment.

"He didn't deserve this," Ada mumbled, catching the other woman off guard.

"No," Polly answered, "disease doesn't come for the ones that deserve it."

Ada kept her gaze at the peaceful micro universe in the room for a moment longer, before turning her head again. "I meant Carl." She smiled. "We've all done some bad things and God knows if there is something after death it won't be heaven for any of us." Polly caught her eyes and Ada knew she saw tears threatening to spill. "But Carl never did anything wrong. He's just a kid!" Her voice raised with every single word and she didn't notice she was shouting until the odd silence met her ears afterwards. She looked around the room, just to see Carl staring at her with curious eyes, his hands now motionless, still clutching the little horse figure. His bottom lip trembled a bit. Ada knew the sight of a child just about to cry. She forced a smile on her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she fussed and made her way to him, "Mommy didn't mean it. Everything's alright." She crouched down and scooped the little boy in her arms. He didn't protest, glad about his mother's warmth. His head was buried in the crook of Ada's neck, so he couldn't see her flushed face as she cried soundlessly.

Polly had watched from the door, looking sad and frustrated. "It will be alright," she said, but her voice trembled with supressed tears as well. It was an awful sight to see Aunt Polly cry. Like a storm tearing at an oak that stood for hundreds of years, now losing its grip on earth.

"No," Ada said, still hugging Carl close to her "not before I see the heads of the men who did this, lying in the dirt to my feet."

***

Elaine

When she exited the betting shop, Elaine saw Michael waiting in front of the building.

"What are you doing here, Gray?" she smiled, "Need to talk to Tommy?"

Michael looked up at her, startled. He had been leaning against the old fence. It was a miracle the splintery construction didn't give in under his weight. He smiled back at her.

"Actually, I was waiting for you."

"For me?" Elaine repeated. "Well, I'm sorry I kept you waiting then. Needed to discuss something."

"Is it about the job?"

It had become a habit to look around anxiously whenever they spoke about it. Elaine made sure no one listened to them. She joined him on the fence, close enough to be able to lower her voice.

"Yes," she admitted, "has anyone talked to you about it?"

Michael furrowed his brows, like he always did when he was excluded from family business. She noticed she knew some of his habits by now and it was a nice thought. He was becoming part of all this.

"No," he grumbled, "I only know there was a meeting today because I caught Polly before she could sneak out."

"I'm sure she wasn't sneaking out to the meeting," Elaine said.

"She waited to put on her shoes on in front of the house, so she wouldn't make any noise."

His face was so serious, that Elaine reckoned he must be telling the truth. However, the thought of Aunt Pol stealing away like a teenager was endlessly funny to her. Elaine couldn't hold back the laughter and despite his grumpy mood, Michael had no choice but to join the giggly fit.

"It's not funny," he grinned.

"You know it is. I'm just surprised no one told you about the auction yet."

"The auction?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, the Blinders are going to buy a race horse in like two weeks. Well, Tommy is, but most of the boys go along."

Michael grated his teeth. "No, I suppose it's part of the business. No meetings, no auctions. Do they all think I'm an idiot?"

"No, they don't. In fact, even Tommy thinks you're smart."

"Does he?" Elaine could almost see his chest swelling with pride.

"God, you really admire him, don't you?" she scoffed. It swiped the smile off his face.

"You don't?" he asked.

"I do," she admitted truthfully, "he is a powerful man and you never know what he's thinking. I sure wish I could just lock everything I don't need away in my head as well."

She was leaning against the fence next to him, careful it would carry them both. Elaine looked up to the cloudy sky, noticing the unfriendly weather. She pulled her coat closer around her frame.

"I don't know," Michael said quietly, "I'm not sure what you think half of the time either."

She snorted and nudged him in the side with her elbow.

"You're flattering me," she said. "I'm sure you'll learn it soon enough, too. Comes with the life style, I guess." When he didn't answer, she continued. "Try talking to Tommy. He likes you. Maybe he takes you along to the auction. Just wait a couple days, or he'll know I told you."

He smiled at that and their eyes met briefly. There was this feeling again, Elaine noticed. The feeling that they were really in this together. She had it ever since they escaped those attackers; where Michael got away with a bruised face.

"I guess I never really thanked you," Elaine noticed and Michaels gaze changed to confusion. "For saving my ass from those gangsters. And-" she continued when Michael opened his mouth to say something. She looked around them again. "for hiding the stupid lion. The whole thing got way over our heads. Sorry you took the hits for it."

Michael was clearly searching for words but then decided on a scoff. She looked up at him.

"Hey, I'm trying to be emotional here," she complained and raised her eyebrows. "I don't have much experience in the field, so it would be nice if you could appreciate the effort."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, completely ignoring her annoyance.

"I asked you to make me part of this," he waved off," you did me a favour. Don't fucking apologize for that."

She huffed smilingly and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Alright. Guess it's a win-win situation then," she said and fumbled for a cigarette.

"Oh, you still owe me," Michael grinned. He watched her smoke.

"And here I was, beginning to like you."

"You do like me," Michael said confidently, "I'm just starting to learn, as you said earlier."

He held out a hand to her and for a second, Elaine feared he wanted her to hold it. Then it dawned on her, that he was asking for a cigarette. She contemplated for a moment. He quirked an eyebrow. It convinced her.

They stood in silence for a moment as Michael lit his cigarette as well, took a drag and immediately broke into violent coughing. Elaine grinned.

"You'll get used to it," she stated. He looked unconvinced, but nodded. After a while he tried again. Michael was a fast learner.

"You never asked me where I hid the damn thing," he remarked. It took her a moment to make the connection.

"I don't want to know. I trust you with it," she said, "No one knows you have it, Michael. I told everyone you think the men harassed me."

She looked up from her cigarette to find him staring at her oddly.

"What?" Did she have something on her face?

He caught himself quickly, averting his eyes.

"You just called me Michael for the first time since we met," he stated, still looking away.

Elaine hesitated, but eventually her face broke into a grin.

"Don't get used to it, Gray."


	9. Chapter 9

Michael

Michael walked out of Tommy's office in a daze, caught between disbelief and happiness. John saw his face from across the room, grinning from ear to ear.

"What got you so speechless, Mikey," he asked, "is Tommy having girls around?"

It took him a moment to answer.

"I'll come along to the auction," he mumbled and repeated it, a bit louder this time.

Johns smile widened. "Well, that calls for the Garrison. Right after work, yeah? I'll get the others."

It was not like Michael had any choice in the matter and John was gone before he could say another word.

A couple hours later and he sat in the little private room of the pub, surrounded by Finn, Elaine and a boy called Isaiah, who apparently was a friend of the family as well and well acquainted with the rest of them. Michael had seen him a couple times but never spoke to him. He was a talkative one and gave you the feeling you knew him for years. It was easy for Michael to like him.

"Where is John Boy?" Isaiah asked, "He was the one inviting me and now he doesn't even show up!" He took a sip from the whiskey in front of him.

Finn, meanwhile nursing an apple juice, looked at him. "He said Tommy asked for him and Arthur," he informed the others. "He'll come over as soon as possible."

Everyone nodded understandingly until Isaiah caught Michael looking at his drink doubtfully. Two seconds after they set foot in the Garrison, Michael had had a whiskey in front of him but hadn't touched it once.

"What's the matter, Michael?" Isaiah quipped, "No poison in there, promise."

"Yeah, it's just, I..." he started, slightly embarrassed.

"He doesn't drink," Elaine chimed in helpfully. He didn't know if he should thank or strangle her. As expected, Isaiah wasn't having it.

"You don't- ... No. No, you just don't know what you're talking about." He nudged the glass closer to Michael. "Come on. You'll like it."

With a sigh, Michael complied and faced similar results like when he first tried a cigarette. He spluttered slightly. Everyone laughed good-naturedly.

"Man, you really didn't drink before, eh? Thought she was lying," Isaiah admitted.

"But you've been to the Garrison with my brothers multiple times!" Finn remarked. He looked truly surprised, as if the possibility of going without a drink in the company of the Shelby brothers was unthinkable. It was funny, Michael thought, since they never allowed Finn a single drink.

"Yeah," he answered, "beer. But haven't had whiskey." He took another gulp. It was easier this time, when he knew what was coming. It wasn't that bad, actually.

"You'll breathe that stuff in a couple months," Isaiah assured and as he looked at his friends, Michael realized he was probably right.

Finn made a grab for the bottle until Elaine caught his sleeve.

"And what do you think you're doing?" she asked with raised brows.

"Come on," he whined. "Everyone is having some. I'm old enough!"

Isaiah grinned. "Aren't you like twelve?" he asked, taking the bottle and holding it just out of Finn's reach. The boy didn't like that at all.

"I'm fourteen!" he complained, "Stop bullying me!"

Elaine, Michael and Isaiah looked at each other, communicating with their eyes. Elaine was shooting a questioning look, to which Isaiah shrugged slightly and glanced at Michael. He nodded towards the closed door. They contemplated the situation for a while, until Isaiah just poured a bit of whiskey into Finn's empty juice glass.

No one said anything, but everyone was wearing mischievous grins. Elaine looked at Finn for good measure, wordlessly telling him that this never happened. He nodded.

"So, Michael, you're allowed to go with us?" Isaiah asked to start another proper conversation. Michael nodded.

"I just confronted Tommy with the idea and eventually convinced him. Although he said Polly gave her okay, so he might have planned it already and just put up a show."

Elaine smiled sheepishly. "Who knows what Tommy is and isn't planning," she said, "He probably wanted to test you or something."

"I would be more worried about the fact that Polly agreed to this," Isaiah said. "Doesn't seem right."

"Maybe she's sick," Finn suggested, making everyone laugh.

"Yeah, sick of her son already," Isaiah chimed, "She wants to get rid of you, Mikey."

For that he earned a half-hearted jab in the ribs but was saved by the opening door of the private room. Everyone froze in their motion, feeling caught red handed.

Had someone heard their conversation? Was it Polly? Finn had just enough time to wrap his hands around his glass, hiding the liquid inside from the intruder.

It was John.

They sighed in relief.

"Easy, I'm no copper," he joked but stayed standing in the door frame. "Lainy, can I have a word?"

"Oh, come on, John Boy," Isaiah complained, "Can't we have a bit of fun? Sit down with us!" John chuckled, but they all knew he had no choice. If it was work related, it couldn't wait. Tommy had decided so.

Elaine made her way out of the booth and towards the Shelby brother. Michael tried to identify the feeling in his gut that was currently dulling down the happiness he felt earlier. He wasn't able to. Or refused to.

***

Elaine

John nodded at her and they both shot apologizing looks at the others before retreating to the uninhabited rooms upstairs. Owning the pub had its advantages. Arthur was still with Tommy, so they had the office for themselves.

Elaine crossed the room and leaned against the dirty windows. John sat down on the desk, facing her.

"You know Arthur and I were busy collecting some information about the bastards attacking us," he began. "That's why we just spoke to Tommy and he said I should pass some things on to you."

"What did you find out?" Elaine asked, curiously. She still had no idea why the people she stole from – or their friends – reacted so badly to the job. She wanted to know who they were dealing with, but hadn't dared doing research herself. They already had an interest in her, she didn't want to draw more attention.

"Not that much," was John's disappointing answer. "The family who kept the statue – yeah, I know about that one, don't worry I won't tell – is close to some gang around some guy called Benson. They're from around Oxford and have a history with the London gangs. Not sure what it was about, but there is no love lost between them, although they haven't been fighting for a couple years. Tommy said you'll be going down to London?"

She just nodded, still processing the information.

"Tommy told me to give this to you."

He handed her a piece of paper, folded neatly. As she looked what it said she found it was a telegram, showing no more than a time and a train number.

Elaine nodded again.

"The blokes in London are a kind of their own, alright?" he went on, "Funny thing, if you ask anyone, they'll say the jews are bakers but everyone knows they're running a distillery. Their leader, Alfie Solomons, is a clever one. I don't think his right hand will be a fool either, so remember that. Tommy said he's already given you instructions."

"Thanks," she mumbled. Now that the conditions were actually set, the situation became awfully real to her. She was going to London, facing an infamous gang on her own. With nothing on her hands except the hope that they wanted some statue back. She felt the blood drain from her face. Elaine still thought it was a stupid idea and had to remind herself to trust Tommy.

"Are you alright," John asked, looking at her with a worried expression. "I don't know what you're doing in London, but be careful, yeah? I'd much better like you with us at the auction. Especially now that Michael's coming."

With a couple words and a shit eating grin he had managed to turn the mood completely. Elaine snorted.

"No idea what you're talking about," she said, grinning as well, "but I'm sure you can pass on the kisses I won't be able to give him that day."

"Not sure if Esme would like that," John played along, "although he is charming, I'll admit that."

"Ew, and he's your cousin," she laughed, pulling her face up in fake disgust. Then, she smiled at John fondly, remembering something. "You talked to Polly, didn't you?"

"I do that sometimes, yes."

"You know what I mean," she scoffed, "you convinced her to let Michael go with you."

For a moment, John seemed a bit embarrassed, looking everywhere but at her. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah, I did. If I were him I would've gone mad by now. If she keeps smothering him like that, she's going to drive him away. That's what I told her as well." He was lost in his thoughts for a moment, swinging his legs a bit and the desk under him protested. "Don't tell him," he said, "Don't want him to think he owes me or anything."

Elaine watched him, smiling. "You are too good for this world, John Shelby," she declared, earning a self-conscious smile and a slight blush.

"I won't tell him, if you don't tell I suggested the whole thing at the meeting."

"Deal," he said, spat on his palm and held it out for her.

She did the same and they shook hands, both grinning at each other.

***

Michael

"Alright, boys, grab as much as you can take and then let's go!"

Arthur's aggressive baritone flew over their heads, as the men hid guns and knives in every empty pocket they could find. Michael made a grab for the shiny metal of a pistol, but was held back by the demanding voice of his mother.

"Not you, Michael, we talked about this," she said and the men around him snickered. Michael sighed inwardly. Polly didn't mind. "I don't know why you boys are taking enough guns to kill the entire auction anyway. It's a legal event, Thomas, that's what we agreed on!"

Tommy, a few meters away from his cousin, mirrored the annoyed expression. He didn't even give her the satisfaction of looking her way. Instead, he wandered down the rows of Peaky boys, monitoring the busy process of preparation.

"It is, Pol," he shouted back, mumbling slightly because of the cigarette dangling from his lips. "It's just for safety."

From behind him, John slung an arm over Michael's shoulders, pulling him close.

"That's right, Polly, your boy won't see any of it when we're there," he grinned, earning more laughter from the others. Michael wrestled himself out of his grip, laughing along despite the uneasiness of embarrassment he was feeling inside. He was saved by the opening door, revealing Elaine. She was looking ready for travel, dark coat fastened around her, a red hat hiding the top of her dark curls. A leather bag was slung over her shoulder and she looked down the road, searching for something. Michael hurried over to her.

"I guess you aren't dressed like that for the auction?" he asked, already knowing the answer. She smiled at him, equally glad for the opportunity to pass the time.

"No, the plans haven't changed." She lifted her bag slightly. "Still going to London."

It made them uneasy, as both of them knew the purpose of her journey. However, they couldn't talk about it, because technically, Michael should be oblivious to anything regarding the statue. It was frustrating, there was quite a bit he wanted to say.

"Well, I wish you ... a safe travel," he said vaguely and she smiled gratefully, getting the message.

"Safe travel to you too, " Elaine answered, "Don't do anything too stupid. And while you're at it, keep the others from making trouble as well, will you?"

Behind them, the noise of an engine broke through the air, as a shiny black car held right next to the dirty trucks the men would be taking to the auction. Michael marvelled at the pretty vehicle.

"Looks like you are taking first class to London," he quipped.

"Only to the station and then I'll have to mix with the peasants again." Her mock arrogance pulled a grin on his face. She swatted his arm. "You are the one going to a posh event anyways, look at you all suited up." her gaze brushed over his frame, making him feel way too aware of himself. She nodded in approval. "I could get used to that. Drink a glass of champagne for me."

The shiny car honked shortly and Elaine sent an annoyed glare its way.

"I gotta go." In a hurried impulse, she threw her arms around him and hugged him briefly. Michael felt her hands shaking on his back. "Stay safe," she mumbled, but he had the feeling it was a wish for herself.

"Stay safe," he replied and watched her vanish into the car.

He kept following it with his eyes, until it rounded the corner and was gone.

"Save the heart eyes for when you're back, Mikey!" John shouted and when Michael looked in his direction, he saw most of the men already in the trucks. He hurried towards his cousin.

"Shut up," he yelled back and shoved him playfully.

They said good-bye to Polly and squeezed in the remaining space in the last car.

Michael felt excitement bubble in his stomach. This was what he was always meant to do.

***

Elaine 

The train journey had dragged on forever and Elaine hadn't decided if she wanted it to be over or last forever. Now, the train came to a squealing halt at the station and she was suddenly certain that she would rather spend a couple more hours inside.

Her heels met the concrete with a thump and she quickly stretched out one arm to the cold metal to regain her balance. When she looked up in front of her, she saw a small group of men a few metres away from her, all wearing black coats over crisp white shirts. Black hats were hiding their hair. They stared at her. Elaine took in a shaky breath and made her way over, coming to a stop in front of them.

She slowly slit her hand in her bag and the men mirrored her movements warily, ready to pull their guns if needed. Elaine held up her other hand in defence and slowly retreated a folded piece of paper. It was the letter containing the train number she received a few days ago. She handed it to one of the men.

They all looked similar, not only in clothing, but in feature. All with broad shoulders, standing tall and aloof. As the man extracted a hand to take her letter, she saw that his hands were how she had expected them to be: large and rough, traces of hard work etched into them.

The man unfolded the letter and read it. Then his gaze turned back on her, he nodded once and he and his friends turned to walk away. Elaine just assumed she was supposed to follow and wasn't told off as she did.

They led her to a waiting car. The driver was in a similar attire to the other men. One of them got in on the opposite side, folding his hands in his lap. No one moved. Elaine looked around and found everyone staring at her. Even the driver peaked out from under his hat. A second man opened the door for her. She climbed in. No one searched her through.

Another man squeezed in on her other side, so that they sat shoulder to shoulder in the back of the car. This was a kind of discomfort she hadn't expected.

The third man, the one who had taken her letter, got in next to the driver and handed the paper back to her. The driver started the car and they went off.

The ride took longer than expected. By now, the situation was entirely confusing to Elaine. She felt like none of the men were taking any safety measures. If she carried a gun, the only thing keeping her from pulling it was the limited space around her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't move her arms properly, let alone aim and fire a weapon. With every bump in the road, her dark curls bumped into the shoulder of the man to her right. She looked over to him uncertainly and found him turning his head to her slightly. His expression was stony and unsmiling and he turned his eyes back to the front.

The car stopped in front of a large double door. The building looked like a factory hall.

The car doors were opened, the men climbed out awkwardly and one of them offered her a hand as she tried to exit as well. She didn't see the harm in taking the help.

The inside of the building was dim, dusty and oddly crowded. People were buzzing to and fro, shouting at each other, carrying barrels and boxes around. She was lead right through the workers, catching eyes every step she took. Elaine didn't know if the reason she caught so much attention was being a stranger or being a woman. She didn't know which was the better option.

At the end of a dark corridor was another door. She remembered John's information and figured that this was the office belonging to the right hand of Solomons. A part of her was glad that she didn't need to request to see him, the other part was fighting terror.

One of the men opened the door, holding it out for her. She caught a glimpse of the inside and found the room to be empty. With a questioning look she turned to her entourage. Again, no one moved a muscle.

Elaine went inside. It was an office, as she had expected. The desk was filled with paperwork and a thousand tiny things. There was a telephone and, to her surprise, a gun, right there, on one of the stacks. The door fell close behind her and she spun around slowly. As some minutes passed, she decided to sit down on the chair opposite from the desk, her bag on her lap, shoulders pulled up in apprehension.

Finally, the door opened again and now, Elaine had to turn around to see who was entering.

There stood a bearded man, a striped waistcoat thrown over a worn down white shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves. If it weren't for the expensive rings decorating his slender fingers, Elaine would have thought he was a worker here. Only that he oozed an odd tension, a kind of anticipation hanging in the air around him. As he made his way through the room and behind the desk, Elaine noticed he was using a cane.

The man dropped on the chair heavily, cane between his legs, hands folded on its end.

"Didn't expect a young thing like you, I'll admit that much," he mumbled in a creaking voice.

***

Michael

The halls were big and pompous. Michael couldn't help but feel proud at the way the Peaky boys were immediately let into the priority area of the place. And now, here they were, all polished and fancy among the rich and famous. In the corner of the hall were long tables, filled with mountains of food of all colours and size. Michael saw things he had never seen before next to dishes he knew from pictures and shiny shop windows, attached to price tags with way too many digits. But it didn't matter now; he could take whatever he wanted.

Crystal chandeliers above them send sparkling light over them. Waiters with filled trays made their way through the crowd. He saw shrimp cocktails and champagne. He had difficulties keeping his mouth closed, his lips automatically parting in awe.

"Alright," Tommy began, looking around to John, Arthur, Charlie, Isaiah and Michael. The rest of them had left to their designated posts to have an eye on the people already. "We have an hour left till the auction starts. So, in exactly 60 minutes I want to see every single one of you in the auction hall, right next to me. Until then –" he patted Michael and Arthur, both closest to him, on the backs, "go have some fun, yeah?" They nodded in approval and understanding.

"Oh," Tommy continued, "and behave!" He brushed invisible dust from his jacket, "We are part of the high class today, gentlemen!"

It only took them a couple of seconds to separate and vanish among the other people. Michael found himself alone with Isaiah and the boys grinned at each other.

"Have fun, that's what he said, you heard him," Isaiah said and swiftly grabbed two glasses from the tray of a passing waiter. He handed Michael one of them. "How could we ever defy orders?"

Michael clinked his glass against his. "I wouldn't dream of it," he answered and they took a huge gulp.

Despite the overstimulation of colours and noises around him, Michael kept an eye on their job. He didn't indulge too much in the alcohol, but didn't see the harm in loading the third portion of ridiculously tiny cakes on a delicate porcelain plate. Isaiah seemed to feel obligated to fulfil their task of making connections, even if Michael couldn't quite grasp the value of an affiliation to the young girl currently hanging on his friend's arm. As far as he could see, the nature of Isaiah's connection to the girl wasn't a spiritual one either.

Michael, not really keen on meeting new people at the moment, decided to get a picture of the present society first. The plate still in his hands, he leant against a wall, watching the party unfold.

"I see, you like the hors-d'oeuvre just as much as I do." A fragile voice dragged his eyes away from the dancing crowd. He found a young woman next to him. She was wearing an expensive dress, matching the champagne in her glass. Her hair was delicately curled around her face, held in place with a shimmering clasp.

"They are quite delicious," Michael agreed, not sure what the girl was talking to him for but too polite to complain. "I think I had far too many already."

The girl smiled brightly, snatching one of the tiny niblets from his plate.

"I don't think there is such a thing as too much of something," she declared and took a bite. She did it in such a feminine way, that Michael was immediately drawn to it. Up until now, he hadn't even been aware that you could put such elegance in a single bite. Her red lips formed a smile after she had swallowed the food, her dark eyes trained on him challengingly.

"I don't know," he replied and found his voice to be slightly deeper than usual. "Maybe you haven't found the wrong kind of too much yet."

"Have you?" she asked, almost whispering. Her lashes fluttered briefly. She was looking up to him now, with the curiosity of someone walking on unknown ground. If only she knew who he was, which life he was leading.

"Yeah," Michael said and felt his lips stretching into a grin, "I know all about it."

***

Elaine

"What exactly did you expect?" Elaine asked the man in front of her.

He shifted slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

"I received a letter from a Thomas Shelby saying some quite interesting things. Quite interesting indeed." He seemed to get lost in a train of thoughts at that, before pulling himself back into the conversation at hand. "You see, if a man sends you a letter with such things, you have to do some research. Out of politeness. And what do you think did I find when searching for Thomas Shelby?"

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, but went on when she didn't respond immediately.

"I found his tiny little Birmingham gang, a bunch of gypsies making trouble in the north. That Billy Kimber deal, yeah, yeah, quite impressive, but, you see, there is still a big difference between the cocksure bastard that is Billy Kimber and ...." he waved his hand around in a vague gesture. "...this. And I thought to myself: Alfie! I thought, Alfie, that Thomas Shelby must be a brave man, sending a letter like that. We will greet him with politeness and see what he has to say."

There was a short pause as Alfie stared at the desk in front of him. It gave Elaine enough time to realize the full extent of the situation. The man in front of her was not the man she had expected. It was not the young boy working as a right hand to the fearful gang leader. In fact, it was the leader himself. John had told her the name, and now she had heard it falling from the lips of the man sitting there with his cane. She had enough time to be terrified.

Alfie Solomons went on.

"Now, I send out my boys in a fancy car to accompany Thomas Shelby here safely, warmly, only to discover that Thomas Shelby has nothing to say at all. Because, my dear, you don't look like a Thomas Shelby to me."

She winced slightly at the direct address, but forced herself to sit straight in her chair.

"Mr. Solomons, I was sent by Thomas Shelby to discuss the matters of the letter you were talking about."

"To discuss the matters. To discuss- there is something," he said as if thinking aloud, "I don't understand. Maybe you can help me out, because the thing I don't understand is, if a brave man like Thomas Shelby sends a little girl to do business for him, is he a brave man in the first place? Because sending a little girl, that's something a coward would do, isn't it?" He scratched his forehead briefly, then, suddenly, slammed his palm down on the table top. "Maybe he thinks I'm not worth the effort. Would be a right disappointment, that one. Really, because it would really hurt my pride. I do my best, even send him the train he needs to take, pick him up from the station and this is what I'd get. A disappointment, because I would have to shoot the tiny girl he sent. And I wouldn't want to do it, what kind of man shoots little girls, eh? But I'd have to, because I would want to get the message across."

It seemed like her vision was closing in on the gun, still laying on the table between them. Elaine tried to calm down her pulse, failing miserably. She cleared her throat.

"I assure you that the reason Mr. Shelby sent me is not out of disrespect. Quite the opposite. I am the one who got hold of the statue, and I am the one most acquainted with the details surrounding it. I am here, because the Peaky Blinders pose no threat to you, nor do we intend to be one any time soon. I am here to propose an offer, if you will."

She waited for a response. Alfie had leant back in his chair, motioning for her to move on in a polite gesture. "Then go on proposing, dear."

"As Mr. Shelby told you in the letter, we got hold of a statue of great value to you and your family."  
Alfie snorted uncommittedly.

"We know that the statue was in your possession until it was taken from you – stolen from you, really. The Peaky Blinders offer the return of the statue."

"That's awfully kind of the Peaky Blinders, to offer that. Did you rehearse that speech? Maybe on the train? Quite the pretty little speech, but there is a problem that you didn't think of. A little ... miscalculation. Small, but unfortunately vital for your deal."

He spread is arms wide with a matching grin.

"I don't want the fucking statue."


	10. Chapter 10

Michael

He didn't really know how it happened but here he was, stumbling through the corridors of the auction hall, the girl in the champagne dress in front of him, leading the way. Her fingers clasped his in a tight grip but her skin was soft and milky white. Michael had overestimated his ability to handle the alcohol and by now he had had more than just his first glass. Her eyes fluttered back to him, and a soft giggle escaped her at the prospect of what they were about to do. To be honest, Michael wasn't really sure where this was going. Sure, he had fooled around with girls in the village before, but this was entirely different. He didn't know the rules now. She didn't need to know that.

Less and less people stood around chatting the further they went and when the girl rounded a corner to the left, they were completely alone. The corridor ended after a couple feet, the dark red carpet leading up to a huge window. Michael could see the dark grey sky behind the glass but turned his eyes back to the beauty before him. She smiled seductively and drew herself nearer. Her hand moved up his chest, along the buttons of his immaculate suit and Michael had to admit he felt strong. Powerful, even. His hands came to rest on her slim waist, pulling her closer with a wicked smirk.

"You know, I never asked you why you're here," she almost whispered while her hands combed through the hair on the back of his neck. He felt her breath fan his face. "You don't seem the type to own a horse."

"I don't?" he quipped, raising his brows with a grin, "And what do you know? I could be a lord."

She giggled again, their combined weight shifting so that they were swaying slowly, almost like a dance.

"You're not a lord," she stated with a secret smile.

"How do you know?"

"You're too-," she seemed to choose her words carefully, thinking about what phrase would convey her thoughts best, "rough around the edges. If you were a lord you would be smoother, polished. You seem-" She faltered again.

"Poor?" he completed, but it was less of a joke than he intended it to be.

"like you're not one of the good guys," she whispered, "I saw you with the other men you're here with earlier. They looked like trouble."

His lips broke into a wide grin. Michael put all his confidence in it, all of the questionable reputation he had acquired by being part of the Peaky Blinders. He wouldn't give her any information of course, but knowing what he knew and seeing her eyes widen slightly made him truly feel like he was part of this dangerous life.

"They are," he confirmed, "and I am one of them." He closed the gap between their faces until his nose was brushing hers and their lips were almost touching. "Does it worry you?" he mumbled. Her lashes fluttered again, her eyes half closed in expectance. Instead of an answer, she kissed him, slowly but urgently. Her lips were soft, the red lipstick she was wearing slightly bitter on his tongue. Michael gripped her tighter and she gasped slightly. He picked up the pace, capturing her lips hungrily and she responded happily. He didn't know if she let herself fall backwards, or if he pushed her, maybe both, but suddenly her back hit the wall of the corridor, his chest pressing her even more into it. The girl lifted her chin and his mouth travelled along her jawline. His teeth scraped softly over her skin until he kissed her neck, just under her ear. Michael could smell her delicate perfume. It was an expensive one, heavy and tranquil. It filled his senses, mesmerizing him, urging him further. Her hands clung to his shoulders, she was whimpering softly. He could feel her leg wrapping around him. Without hesitation, his hand found her thigh. Her dress had hitched up further so that his fingers now brushed her bare skin. Michael pulled her leg a bit higher and suddenly she was even closer to him, every inch of her body pressed against his. He gasped in surprise, still close to her throat. The girl felt him falter and her hand slit along his shoulders, up until she cradled his cheek. She lifted his chin up to meet his eyes. For the first time, Michael noticed that she was out of breath too, her pupils dilated, lips swollen. It was like a magnet pulled him back to her. Their lips collided again their teeth meeting for a moment before her warm tongue brushed his bottom lip.

A bell sounded, loud and seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Michael and the girl stopped, slightly flinching from the sudden noise.

The voice of a woman announced the beginning of the auction in five minutes. Michael cursed. He had forgotten the time. He should be in the hall with Tommy and the other Blinders already. The girl looked at him curiously and he met her eyes for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry, "he gasped, still trying to calm his breathing, "I have to go."

Michael couldn't wait for her response, so he quickly kissed her again, pushed himself off the wall behind her, and rounded the corner in long strides. On his way, he briefly saw his reflection in a window, and sorted out his hair and the red smudges on his lips. He tucked his suit in place and made his way to the auction.

"Michael, there you are!" John was the first one who saw him, his face clearly showing relief at his sight. Next to him, Michael could already see the broad shoulders of Thomas Shelby, and he didn't think he was ready for the cold stare of his disapproval. He had been standing at a railing, looking down on what seemed to be the showcasing ring. But when Tommy turned around, all Michael saw was an amused spark in the pale blue eyes. Arthur barreled past him to sling his arm around Michael's shoulders in a bone-crushing side hug.

"Here I am," Michael confirmed weakly, fearing that the others could read on his face what had just happened moments ago. "I'm sorry for being late."

The others went back to their places and he caught eyes with Isiah, who already grinned at him in what looked like pride. Michael couldn't quite understand his friend sometimes, but decided it was best not to question it. Tommy waved him over, a cigarette in his other hand.

"You're just on time," he said and patted him on his shoulder, effectively ushering Michael to the railing right next to him. They were looking down onto a square full of sand. Michael could already see hoof prints embedded into it. Around it, elevated for a perfect view, was the audience. The room was packed with the same rich people Michael had already seen outside, the same people he rushed past when disappearing with the champagne girl.

He tried to focus. If he couldn't separate pleasure from business, he didn't deserve a spot among the Blinders, and Michael was desperate to prove his potential.

The female voice from earlier read a greeting and then went on to announce the first horse and their owner. It was hard to follow all the qualities that were listed, and even harder to grasp what they even meant. But when the first horse was lead to the square, Michael found it easier to discover the important details. It was a beautiful sorrel horse with a white blaze, slender and powerful in its stride. It made a few rounds in the arena, throwing his head left and right. Michael leaned on the railing to see better. He had always loved horses, had grown up with them, and leaving them behind in the village was probably the only thing about it that didn't sit entirely comfortable with him.

"What do you say?" Tommy's deep voice asked beside him. Michael was too fascinated to be intimidated like usually.

"It's beautiful," he answered truthfully, "but awfully young. It has too much energy and doesn't know where to put it."

"Energy should be a good thing for a race horse, no?" Tommy questioned, obviously testing him.

"It is, but you'd have to teach it how to use it right. It would take a long time, I don't know if you could wait that long."

His eyes were still glued to the animal, but when Tommy didn't answer, Michael realized what he had just said. He shot an insecure glace to his side, trying to catch his cousin's reaction. Next to him, John whistled impressed, but waited for Tommy's opinion as well. The man in question stared a moment and then looked back over his shoulder, where Charlie smiled happily.

"What he said," Charlie said and Tommy seemed satisfied. He turned back to the arena, watching the young horse while people around them betted higher and higher amounts.

Michael felt pride well inside him and felt himself truly happy for what seemed to be the first time since he had arrived in Small Heath.

***

Elaine

"What do you mean, you don't want the statue?" Elaine asked incredulously. As Alfie had promised, this was something she hadn't seen coming and quite the miscalculation on Tommy's part.

"What do you think I mean, girly, it's not that hard to understand. I don't want it," he said, visibly losing patience with her.

"Mr. Solomons, this statue rightfully belongs to you and your gang. Why on earth wouldn't you want it back, if the opportunity was so easy?"

"Listen, you made me say it twice. I don't like repeating myself. Maybe I'm stuttering? Am I stuttering? Ollie!" his voice grew louder with each word, until he was shouting from the top of his lungs at the name of his right hand man. The door opened and a young man entered, much more fitting to the picture Elaine had anticipated when thinking of Tommy's description of the man she was supposed to meet. The boy was slender, brown curls on the top of his head, wearing the clothes of his gang. Alfie waved him over to the desk. A confused and uncertain expression flashed on the young man's face, before he could muster up a neutral stare. Ollie walked over to his boss, slightly leaning down to his sitting frame.

Alfie shifted closer to him, his eyes set on a point right in front of him.

"Ollie, you just heard me call your name, yeah?" Alfie asked, in normal volume again, as if asking about the time.

"Yes," Ollie answered truthfully.

"That's why you just came through that door?"

"Yes," he agreed again.

"And you understand the questions I'm asking you right now?"

Ollie nodded.

"And would you say it's hard to understand me? You know, am I talking too fast, or too quietly, anything like that?"

The young man frowned, pursed his lips in consideration, but finally shook his head decidedly.

"No, I can hear you just fine."

Alfie nodded at that, contemplating the words of his right hand. He then looked up from the desk, eyes focusing back on Elaine.

"Well, then it must be you," he deduced, "you're either deaf or stupid."

"Mr. Solomons-", Elaine tried.

"Maybe both," Alfie interrupted her.

There was a rare moment of silence in the room. Elaine was thrown off by the blunt and intimidating manner. She knew she was sent to London to talk to a gang, but the double edged dismissal was something she did not expect at all. Cold sweat was running down her back. Her life had already been threatened once, but she didn't know how serious Alfie was about it.

Elaine opened her mouth, but found that no words were coming out. Alfie leaned back in his chair, almost lounging, almost bored.

"Mute now as well, yeah?" He waited a second longer and flung his wrist again, loosely in her direction. "Ollie, throw her out."

The young man reacted immediately and left the side of his boss to come around the table, waiting expectantly next to her chair.

"Come on," he mumbled and the lack of a formal address on his part told her that she truly lost her opportunity. She failed. But she still had her life. The brief thought of Ollie, killing her behind the factory hall, went through her head. She glanced up to him, tried to calculate how brutal he could be, but she didn't find any cruelty in his eyes. Her knees were shaking when she pushed herself out of the chair slowly.

"Please reconsider the offer, Mr. Solomons. You have our address. The offer still stands."

Ollie tugged her to the door rather forcefully but Alfie himself didn't react at all to her plea.

"Send my best regards to Mr. Shelby," he said, full of irony.

The people working in the distillery followed them with their gaze, but this time, Elaine barely noticed it. She let Ollie drag her through the corridors and halls until finally, he pushed open the big double doors she once entered through. The air hit her face, but it was a welcomed call back into reality. She heard the door slam shut behind her and with a slow breath she lowered herself to the ground, chin tucked to her chest, her hands gripping her hair at the roots. Her vision was hazy and the tight feeling under her ribcage persisted even now that she was outside. What did just happen? What did she do? There was no deal, which meant the trouble the Blinders went through was for nothing and they wouldn't get any help from London either. It was her fault, clearly, but what exactly did Tommy expect? Suddenly, rage was taking over where fear had once filled her. It had been a stupid plan. Of course Alfie Solomons didn't take her seriously, hell, she wouldn't have taken herself seriously either!

"You're lucky he didn't lose his temper," said a voice behind her, and Elaine noticed that Ollie was still standing behind her. It was embarrassing but admittedly the least she worried about right now. She turned her face in his direction, grateful she didn't cry.

"He didn't?" she huffed, "Looked different to me."

His blank expression didn't falter but the sound he made was probably the closest he would ever come to an amused snort. "This was nothing, "he stated and she knew it was no exaggeration. "What exactly was your plan anyway?"

It was weird, this attempt of a normal conversation. Again, her eyes skimmed over him and he seemed to shift slightly under her gaze. He didn't look like a gangster and his question seemed to be one of honest curiosity. She didn't feel like playing games anymore.

"I don't know," she admitted, "It wasn't my idea. But I told the truth in there – we don't mean any harm."

"You didn't seem to mean any harm to Billy Kimber at first either." His voice was factual. Ollie buried his hands in the pockets of his dirty trousers. He stared at the ground in front of him, as if he couldn't stand any eye-contact.

Elaine faltered for a moment. He was right. And they both knew what it meant for the future of a potential deal between the Blinders and the Bakers.

"You know about that?" Elaine asked, still crouching on the floor.

"Who do you think did the research Alfie – Mr. Solomons - was talking about?" His ears took on a pinkish hue, as if the extent of his knowledge embarrassed him. But he took a few steps until he was standing right next to her crouched form. She looked up to him and noticed how young he actually was. Not much older than her, she supposed but he surely didn't get his position in the gang for nothing. She didn't know why he was so friendly, or, at least not hateful towards her.

"Why doesn't he want the statue back?" Elaine asked finally, because maybe she would get an actual answer from him. He stayed silent for a while, clearly contemplating how much he could tell. He exhales audibly.

"It's more effort than it's worth," Ollie said, "I think he was done with this whole thing. Glad that it was over, maybe."

"You're not sure?" Elaine quipped, because she suddenly felt safer than she should, "I thought you were his right hand man? Shouldn't you know what he's thinking?"

Ollie looked at her strangely. "No one knows what he's thinking."

Suddenly, there was a crash from inside the building, and his head whipped around as if he could see through the walls. "I guess that's my call, "he said, "I'll send someone to bring you to the station."

Before she could say anything, or even stand up to her full height, he had reached the door. But before he went through, he threw a glance back at her. "Be grateful you kept your life," he said seriously, "the Peaky Blinders are getting in way over their heads here."

And with that he left her to think about his words.

***

Michael

They looked at one horse after another. Tommy made sure to ask his opinion most of the time, but he got the feeling Tommy knew his own deal about them. Charlie threw in his opinion as well, while the others busied themselves with staring at the posh people around, making jokes about their lifestyle. Finally, they decided on a tall, entirely black English thoroughbred with brown fur around it's nose. Michael fell in love instantly and Tommy seemed to be fond of the gelding as well. After Charlie's approval, it all went down pretty quickly. The Peaky Blinders had accumulated enough money to win the bet easily. For some reason, Michael had doubted the honest intentions of the Shelby siblings. The fact that they were really just buying a race horse in a hundred percent legal way surprised him for some reason.

Now that they did what they were here for, Tommy led the way out of the auction hall and the others were quick to follow.

"Alright," he said, "Make sure to tell the boys we're leaving, and to wait by the cars. Charlie and I will go seal the deal and sort everything out. We'll meet you there."

Everyone scattered at that, leaving in different directions to fulfill their designated tasks. Michael didn't quite know what to do with himself, but was promptly hit in the shoulder by Isiah.

"Mate, I saw you with that girl in the nice dress. Good job!"

Michael pretended to be unimpressed. "Every single girl here has a nice dress."

"Ah, don't play dumb, you know which one I mean. I saw you talking to her by the food table and then suddenly you two were gone. Please tell me you did what I hope you did."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Isiah stared at him incredulously, not understanding Michael's will to play stupid. Then, Michael couldn't keep it in anymore, and a grin stretched over his face. Isiah huffed, covering his chest with one hand as if he just evaded a heart attack, but then burst out laughing. He shoved his friend again.

"Who was she? Did you-", he stuck his face closer to Michael's, in an attempt to look secretive. "you know. Do it?"

Michael shoved him off. "That's none of your business, mate," he stated. But he knew his friend wouldn't let it go anytime soon. He sighed. "No, the auction started, so we didn't get... that far."

"Sucks for you," Isiah shrugged and began to make his way in the direction of the cars.


	11. Chapter 11

Michael

They waited for a rather long time, which was unusual in itself because the Blinders never had the patience to do so and Tommy was never late. Except now he was and the members of his gang could hardly leave without him. Michael knew how buying a horse went down and it didn’t take that long. He didn’t dare to speak up, but seeing the other boys so restless didn’t make him feel better at all.  
“What is he bloody doing?” Arthur complained, pacing around the cars.   
“He’s buying a horse,” came John’s smart answer, but it was halfhearted and full of doubt. “Maybe someone should go and look after him,” he added finally.   
It was hard finding a volunteer. Tommy had told them to wait by the cars. Looking for him meant going against his order.  
“What if this is part of some plan of his?” one of the men said, “and we screw it up by searching for him.”  
“What kind of plan is that supposed to be?” Arthur said, “why would we screw up if we find him?”  
“Maybe he is talking to someone important,” another threw in.  
“One of you brothers should go, you are closest to him, “ was another one’s idea. John squirmed a bit under the following gazes.   
“He said we should wait here,” he mumbled, clearly indicating the same fear, “he would’ve taken us along if there was any trouble.”  
They all knew they were just beating around the bush. No one wanted to face Tommy’s rage if they acted wrongly. Eventually, they decided that the costs would be bigger if they didn’t look and something indeed had happened to him.   
They tried to decide who would go once again, bickering like housewives. One even suggested throwing a coin until they were down to one person. It was loud and chaotic.   
“Do you think something’s wrong?,” Michael asked Isiah lowly, because he didn’t know what to do with himself other then start conversations. Isiah shrugged.   
“I know as much as you do, mate,” he answered and Michael was suddenly aware that this wasn’t true. There was a good portion of events Isiah probably had no idea about, and Michael shouldn’t either. But surely this had nothing to do with the statue he had hidden carefully. Right?  
Michael wished he was back with the champagne girl, furiously making out in a lonely hallway. He had felt powerful then, even dangerous. Now, among these gangsters, who all scurried around with a worried expression, he felt small and insignificant.  
A scream broke through the noise. Arthur, clearly having enough of this kindergarten. As the eldest Shelby, he was the one in charge now.  
“You!” he bellowed, pointing at a random Blinder. “You go looking for him!”  
The man in question stared at the eldest Shelby with open shock, eyes wide. He was too taken aback to move for a moment, but knew better than to test Arthur and finally went running to look for Tommy.

They waited for what seemed like way too long. Michael felt the urge to sit down on the floor, tired of standing around. But looking at the gangsters around him he felt like a child for his thoughts. They all were alert. Standing, on lookout for any danger coming their way. When the footsteps of multiple people carried through the wide space, no one missed it.  
“Couldn’t find him” the Blinder shouted, still a good amount of distance away from the others. The boys began shuffling around, murmuring among each other. “But Charlie was still there!” he pointed behind himself, where the older man followed. A small relief, at least. Charlie waited until he was there before he spoke. “He made the deal but he was on his way back here. He should be here by now.”  
“Well, he bloody isn’t!” Arthur shouted back, flailing his hands in a manner that indicated he was at the end of his wit. He turned on his heal, multiple times, trying to decide what to do now. “Charlie. What about the horse now?” he asked.  
“We don’t need to worry about it, it will be brought to Small Heath in a couple days.”  
“Alright. Then everyone, look for Tommy. Search everywhere. Don’t go on your own, always take someone else with you. We meet here again in an hour.”  
He waited a bit in the silence that followed his words. No one dared to move.  
“Now!” he shouted, kicked the car closest to him in the process and sent everyone running. Michael caught Isiah’s glance, and then they followed the rest of the gang. Back up the stairs, where the main event took place. They had to start somewhere.

***

Tommy 

The cold wall bore into his back, making him shockingly aware of his slim chances of escape.   
“Well, gentlemen,” he rumbled in a lighthearted tone, “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to. Feel free to make an appointment anytime in the future.”   
None of the three men in front of him moved. He didn’t think they would. They had cornered him on his way back to his men, dragging him in a more secluded area of the hallways around the stables. But now that they had him, they didn’t talk much and beneath the steady rhythm of his furiously beating heart he felt annoyed about it. But he waited, raising an eyebrow expectantly.   
Instead of talking, one of the brutes hit him, quicker than he anticipated. It forced him back into the wall, banging his head in the process. Tommy’s hand instinctively reached up to cover his aching skull, swearing under his breath. Were they just here to beat him up?  
“Arrogant bastard,” the gangster bit, subtly shaking his knuckles, “Don’t try games with us.”   
Tommy snorted, straightening himself back up slowly. “Very well, I don’t think you’d get the rules anyway, eh?”   
Of course this brought him another hit, aimed for his face. This time he had the mind to raise his arms to dodge the blow. It still hurt like hell, but he wouldn’t show that. Pain was beneath him.   
But it worked. The second man clearly had enough of this pointless situation. “Your dirty Blinder fucks stole something. We want it back.”   
Tommy pretended to think, staring down his opponent. He needed to weasel his way out of this. Quite frankly, he had expected Benson’s gang to make a move sooner rather than later, but trying – and succeeding - to catch him alone at such a public event almost came to a surprise to him. He wondered what the best strategy was.  
“I’m a man of honor, gentlemen,” he spoke, “And a man of many professions. I’m a bookie and a businessman-“  
“You’re gypsy scum is what you are,” interrupted the second man again. His fuse seemed to be much shorter than his friends’. Tommy swallowed the insult with a bitter taste. Nothing new to him, but still an unwelcomed desert. He continued his speech.  
“What I’m saying is, you have to be more specific in referring to any of my work. Did you bet on a horse?” He shook his head in pity. “I understand. Many good men lost a good fortune if the almighty above decides so. I’m a religious man, gentlemen, and I believe in the Lord’s choices. We don’t do refunds.”  
This certainly took the men off guard, staring at Tommy like he grew a second head. He used this to swiftly push away from the wall and stepped around them. Making a run for it seemed the smart choice. Hitting the man closest to him in the process seemed as well. The man grunted in pain as Tommy slid past him. Rough fingers closed around his arm, using the weight of a whole body behind it to drag him back and around, head first into the next wall. Back to the beginnings, it seemed. White light exploded behind Tommy’s eyes, his cheekbone sharply colliding with the stones. He struggled, but the combined force of two burly giants was nothing he could win against. Especially now, that they pushed his body further into the wall, pushing the air slowly out of his chest. He heard a crunching sound too close to his ear and just hoped it wasn’t his own skull cracking.  
“Enough of that, gypsy rat, where is the statue?” It was the second man again speaking, confirming Tommy’s conclusions. Benson’s men. Unfortunately, his face was pressed to closely to the stone for him to speak. The men must have noticed it too, because they smacked his head against it again for good measure and threw him to the ground. The three of them were enough to circle him effectively. Tommy had enough sense to curl into a more protected position, raising his arms again to shield his face when necessary. He panted heavily, feeling something wet run into his ear.   
“What statue?”, he choked out, catching eyes with the speaker. The kick to his gut was only slightly dulled by his own knee getting in the way as a means of protection. Tommy closed his eyes briefly, his inner battle against the pain momentarily more important that his defense on the outside. His chances of escaping were practically non-existent. Maybe his own men came looking for him. Thinking about the grand structures of the auction hall, it seemed impossible they would find him in time. The irony, of course, was, while he knew exactly what statue they were looking for he truly didn’t have any idea where exactly it was currently located. He forced his glance upward again, waiting for the same question again.  
“Where is it?” the man repeated finally.   
And they got the same answer.  
And Tommy got the same reaction.

***

Michael

Michael was acutely aware of the seconds that passed with every step he took. The unsure feeling in his gut had turned into ice-cold panic by now. A knot in his body that turned him into a headless chicken, running around in blind thoughts of ‘he must be somewhere’ and ‘this can’t be happening’. Despite his experience, Isiah wasn’t any better either, asking every bartender and waiter with wide eyes. No one had seen a man with bright blue eyes and a newsboy cap. Isiah had almost told them about the razor blade sewn into the hat, since it was a quite distinct feature if you knew about it, but held himself back just in time. Usually, Tommy’s immaculate suits were a good description, but among these rich people it simply wasn’t doing any good. Michael believed that the thing that made Thomas Shelby stand out was not of physical nature. The waiters would know who they meant, if they had seen him. But they hadn’t. He made his way to the next hall. Tables with half-eaten food and empty glasses dotted the space. People stood around congratulating each other to their fine deals. No one paid any attention to two young boys running around. Michael’s head turned steadily, trying to take in the whole scenery at once, trying to decide where to go and where to search next. A hand on his shoulder ripped him out of his haze, turning him around quickly. He fought the urge to hit the person, suspecting danger at every corner now. But it was all bright blonde locks and red lips, smiling at him happily. The sight was almost too bright for Michael’s eyes now. The champagne girl began speaking, probably about seeing him again after his abrupt departure last time. He saw her lips move but didn’t understand anything she said. He couldn’t hear any sound besides his own roaring heartbeat.   
Slowly, her words faltered, the corners of her mouth dropping. Worry overtook her features. To his slight dismay she raised a hand and put it against his cheek. Her hands were cold and it brought him back to reality a bit. The only words he caught were ‘okay’ and ‘happened’. He didn’t need to be a genius to guess the questions behind them. But she was of no help, no use. So he grabbed her wrist as gently as he could force himself to be and dragged her hand down from his face.  
“I’m fine,” he replied, “I’m sorry, but I got to go.”  
He turned away from her, but she clung to his arm. He didn’t stop to talk to her but instead angled his chin towards her, still walking.  
“Listen, girl-“  
“Charlotte.”  
He blinked at her. This didn’t seem the right time for introductions, but she pouted at him, as if not using her name had offended her deeply.   
“Charlotte,” he repeated slowly, “right. You can’t come with me. I have… business to do.”  
“You are searching for someone.”   
It wasn’t a question and he didn’t answer. He eyes shone brightly at him. She thought she could help.  
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he insisted.  
“What’s your name?”   
Again he paused, not quite believing she was still on about the names.  
“Michael! Stop chatting and move along!” It wasn’t Michael’s voice that answered her question, but Isiah, finally coming over to rip him out of the conversation.  
“Miss,” he greeted with a forced smile, and grabbed his friend by the arm. Michael had time for a last glance before leaving the girl he now knew the name of in the middle of the room. She looked lost but Michael saw something spark in her eyes. He saw adoration and he was sure he had never seen something more beautiful directed at him.

It was at the top of a large stairs where they bumped into John and Arthur again. Just like them, they didn’t have any clue about Tommy’s whereabouts, but were on their way to the lower part of the buildings. Starting around the stables again, the last place where Tommy had been seen, seemed like a good strategy. They had searched this part before, but desperation drove them down there again.  
Michael could see the jacket fall oddly over John’s shirt, probably a gun hidden underneath. Arthur was carrying one as well, its handle poking out from his belt. He wished for a weapon himself, silently cursing his mother’s ban earlier that day.   
The stables were still busy, people signing contracts and looking at their prizes buzzing around. Tommy wouldn’t be here.   
Michael turned around, to tell the other’s as much, and promptly ran into a mousy waitress. The glasses on her tray swayed dangerously, but she had enough practice to find her balance. Muttering an excuse, she flew past him, to deliver the drinks to the waiting Lords and Ladies behind them. Michael wondered where she had come from, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. And only now, that he was really looking for it, did he see a narrow corridor, leading away from the main areas.  
The servants must have their own ways through the building. Shortcuts through the halls for efficient work.   
“Arthur, John!” he called, ideas forming in his head rapidly. Isiah was closely by his side, eying the corridor suspiciously. The brothers came practically running at his voice and in a few words he explained his find.  
“It’s the only thing we haven’t searched yet, “ he went on, “No one would have seen him vanish in there. And you can get anywhere like that.”  
The logic persisted and they were all out of other ideas. But this felt right. He was on to something here. Unsure what to do now, he looked up to Arthur.   
“Should we gather the others?” Michael asked. Arthur shook his head after considering it.  
“No time for that, Tommy sure as hell didn’t go in there just for the fun of it.” He pulled his gun from his belt, lifting it as he took a few steps into the darker hallway. John copied him, ready on his heels. They were eager to find their brother, hurrying deeper inside.

Of course, this was no easy task either. Michael felt like the winding hallways took up as much space as the rest of the building. It was a claustrophobic labyrinth, only used by people who knew their way around it. But it was also quieter and they listened at every corner, ready to jump or be jumped.  
The waiters and cooks still using these ways jumped at the sight of their guns and scurried away like rats from the water. Arthur almost shot one at sight. His nerves were getting to him, but he caught himself just in time.  
It wasn’t long before they heard strange sounds. It sounded like thumps, something hitting the bare stone. There were also voices, to quiet to understand.  
Until now, Michael had felt somewhat protected with Arthur and John by his side, Isiah close behind him with his own weapon. But now, that the actual encounter seemed to lay ahead, he felt fear gripping his throat again. In quiet despair, he looked down at his shaking hands, willing them to keep still. He had his suspicions about who was behind this. The chance of encountering the same men from his fight behind the Garrison seemed high. Obviously, these weren’t worries he could say out loud, and so he kept wrestling with his own mind and body. His muscles seemed to remember the pain these men inflicted last time.   
Arthur went first, shoving himself along the wall carefully, until he could glance around the next corner. Michael didn’t know what he saw, but whatever it was triggered a strangled yell from the oldest Shelby. The voices stopped, as Arthur barreled around the stone edge, down the hall. Gun risen but not shooting. John tried to hold him back but was too slow. Instead, he stumbled out of cover as well, catching sight of the scene past Arthur’s furious frame. Anger twisted his face, as he raised his weapon as well.   
Michael was faintly aware that he didn’t have anything to defend himself and turned around to Isiah. His friend stood with his back to him, briefly glancing over his shoulder but busy making sure they weren’t jumped from behind. He as well had drawn his gun. Sweat damped the collar at the base of his neck. He was terrified as well.  
With his pulse loud in his ears, Michael too glanced around the corner.   
Down the corridor, he saw three men, looming over a dark huddle on the floor. They had stopped whatever they were doing, staring at the Blinders, contemplating their next steps. Arthur didn’t waste any time, waltzing down the short hallway like a bull, ready to take down all three of them in blind rage. If it wasn’t for John behind him, the three men probably wouldn’t have budged, but two Blinders with guns were too much of a threat. In these narrow corridors, they couldn’t shoot, however. Michael realized that any bullet fired around here could ricochet off the walls easily, hitting anyone by accident. But Arthur’s rage was effective enough. The three men turned on their heels, making for a run. Michael swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he finally came out of hiding, making his way down the hall as well. He was aware that Arthur had run past the pile on the floor, eager to hunt down the strangers for what they did. But Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the dark spot on the floor, slowly nearing it until it took the shape of a man. A man usually so powerful and above anyone, now at Michael’s feet, motionless.  
“Michael.” It was John’s voice, crouching next to Tommy on the floor. He was frantic, but his eyes were dry. Michael felt like crying instead. The younger Shelby caught his gaze, his voice surprisingly steady. “I have to go after them.”  
And Michael understood. Leaving Arthur alone would be a death sentence. He nodded, forcing his own mouth to obey.  
“Isiah and I will get him back to the others.”  
“Use your gun.”  
John had forgotten Michael didn’t have one. Michael didn’t correct him, but nodded instead.  
By now, Isiah had closed the distance as well, muttering a curse at the scene before him. The two young men watched silently as John’s figure retreated, the sound leaving with him. 

Michael took John’s place next to Tommy on the floor. There was too much red. It stained the floor, the coat and most of the skin he could see on the man. Michael’s gaze flickered up to his friend. Isiah crouched down, turning the limp body over slowly. Tommy’s eyes were closed. Isiah raised a hand to his face, holding it under his nose with some distance.   
“I- I think he’s still breathing,” he said, voice unsure.  
“Does he have a pulse?” Michael asked. He felt cold to the bone. When Isiah’s hand reached up again, this time to press against the vein on Tommy’s neck, the body suddenly jerked. It was as if the touch triggered an old reflex, and Tommy turned on his stomach with heaving breaths. His eyes were open now, but unseeing. Isiah jumped back, landing on his butt with a yelp. But Tommy didn’t notice. He didn’t take the time to take in the scene, but instead grunted in pain as his bruised hands tried to find the strength to push himself up.   
Michael rushed to his side, hooking his own arm under Tommy’s.  
“Easy Tommy,” he assured, “it’s just us, you’re safe.”  
But Tommy’s body didn’t know safety. It knew escape. Michael wondered if this was what the Thomas in the trenches had looked like. The soldier, fighting for his life, abandoning the limits of his body. He tried to push Michael off him, hands slick from blood, not finding hold against his skin. Isiah came back to his feet, quick to grab the Shelby’s other arm.   
Michael kept repeating the same words over and over again, pleading for Tommy to come to his senses. Tommy’s beaten body couldn’t win against the two boys and finally he gave up struggling. He calmed down.  
“It’s us. It’s me, Michael. We’ll get you out of this,” Michael said again, his words sounding hollow to his ears by now. Tommy breathed heavily, the blue of his eyes clearing up with every second. He didn’t say a word, but after another agonizing minute he lifted his head slowly, taking in Michael’s face for the first time.   
Relief was all Michael felt in that moment.  
Tommy’s feet dragged over the floor, trying to stand. Isiah and Michael helped him up with effort. There was no way he could stand alone, and given the small space around them, they just managed to share his weight between them. Slowly they made their way back to the cars.   
Just before they reached the end of another servant’s corridor, a faint gunshot rang through the dense silence. It echoed among their loud breathing for a moment, but they couldn’t afford to stop and wonder if Arthur and John stood on the right side of the gun when it went off.


End file.
